


Across Time and Death

by purplesummer91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DCBB 2013, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesummer91/pseuds/purplesummer91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has just turned twenty seven and has a crappy life, a crappy family, a crappy job in a crappy coffee shop, and the most fabulous best friend he could ever ask for. He also has a recurring dream that has been tormenting him for weeks, now. A dream that involves the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes he has ever seen. Blue eyes that belong to a mysterious stranger from the coffee shop, who has left him a feather and an address that prompts him and his best friend Charlie to go on a road trip to find out the meaning of Dean's dreams, and the identity of the beautiful stranger who seem to know Dean far better than he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across Time and Death

**Author's Note:**

> This is it. Posting day has come, and here I am, finally publishing my first big bang! I've had a lot of fun with this, and I'm very excited to see what you all think about it.  
> Many thanks to lookatthesefreakinghipsters for her wonderful editing work, and to everyone who supported me while I was writing this. Also an enormous thank you to my lovely artist Izzy, whose wonderful art for this story you can find here: chromaticwish.livejournal.com/4173.html. Also if you're interested, you can find a PDF version complete with art here: www.sendspace.com/file/y7t1h2.  
> This story is dedicated to the Sammy to my Dean, my awesome sister Sara. <3

_The disembodied eyes are blue and bright as they_ _float through_ _the abandoned warehouse_ _towards Dean. E_ _ven as he shoots, Dean instinctively knows his bullets aren’t going to hurt them, although he has no idea how he knows that. Maybe he should be afraid, but he’s not._

 _Dean sees himself raising a knife, his body moving without_ _him controlling it. He stabs at a point a few inches below the blue eyes, where the heart would be, if they were attached to a body. The eyes seem somewhat bemused and not scared in the least, and the knife falls down to the ground, the eyes unharmed by the attack. Dean is relieved, because he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to those beautiful e_ _yes – and he certainly doesn’t want to be the one to hurt them._

 _He’s about to ask a_ _question – who is the man or woman in front of him? Why can Dean only see their eyes, and not their body? Do they know that Dean has never seen eyes so beautiful in his entire life? – when the eyes become scared. Everything turns red, and there’s pain, pain like Dean has never felt before – he looks down, and there’s blood in his hands, blood everywhere, a long blade stabbed in his stomach._

 _Dean looks up, sees the blue eyes lunging forward as he falls, a deep, gravelly voice coming from God knows where screaming his name as everything t_ _urns black._

 **~** ❦ **~**

Dean woke with a start, sitting up in his bed, completely drenched and panting. Okay. Everything was okay. He was in his apartment, and he was _okay_. No blood, no blades. No blue eyes. He let out a small groan, leaning back against his headboard, and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. He’d had that dream, _again._ The third time, just this week. And today was just _Thursday._ Fuck. It was getting worse. Maybe he should really consider talking to a professional because, fucking hell, he hadn’t slept right in a month. Not since these weird-ass dreams started.

When he finally managed to catch his breath, Dean opened his eyes, looking around before noticing a red dress and a bra on the chair next to his bed, the sounds of someone moving around coming from the other room. Oh, hell. Had he gotten drunk and brought a chick back home? That would explain his killer headache. He groaned. He really, really didn’t want to deal with a morning after type of situation, and certainly not with a chick who was making freaking _pancakes_ \- judging from the smell - for a guy she’d had a one night stand with. Ugh. Couldn’t she just tiptoe out like anybody else would?

Before Dean could actually decide what he should do, he heard footsteps coming his way, a bright voice calling, “Good morning, birthday boy!” as a pretty redhead made her way into Dean’s bedroom, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt she had most definitely stolen from him.

Dean felt himself relax as he let out a relieved sigh. Charlie. It was just Charlie. There might have been alcohol involved – if the way his head hurt was any indication, alcohol had _definitely_ been involved – but no sex, and no morning after situations. Good. That was good.

“Hey Charlie,” he mumbled, his voice still hoarse, his head throbbing. “I got absolutely no idea what happened last night.”

Charlie laughed, setting a tray on Dean’s knees – pancakes with a crazy amount of chocolate syrup, lots of coffee, and even Tylenol. Bless her heart.

“Well, let’s just say – you’re a year older, I’m single and miserable, and we had to go out and celebrate our craptastic lives,” she said, patting Dean’s head affectionately as she sat on the edge of the bed – which earned her a half-hearted glare from him.

“How come you’re so fucking cheerful?” Dean complained, frowning up at Charlie. “I don’t even know how the fuck I’m gonna manage to go to work today – my head’s killing me.”

“Well, you see, Dean – alcohol is good and all, but I avoid drinking like a sponge when I know I’ll have to go to work in the morning,” Charlie said, poking Dean’s side and making him squirm a little as he started to eat his pancakes.

“You should’ve made me stop, too. You’re a crappy friend.”

“I’m not your mom. And you were too drunk to be reasoned with, and definitely not drunk enough to get all obedient and let me lead you out of the bar. At least I managed to stop you when you jumped on your chair and decided to do a strip-tease in the middle of the bar.”

Dean groaned. “I take it back. You’re an awesome friend.”

Charlie smirked. “Knew you’d say that. Now – eat your food, get dressed, and get going. You don’t wanna be late for work and get the new boss on your case even more than he already is,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead before grabbing her clothes from the chair. Good thing she only lived a couple of floors under him. “Call me later, okay? And happy birthday again.”

“Yeah – thanks, Charlie,” Dean called after her as she walked away. Yeah, honestly, he really couldn’t afford to get in late – this new guy who had bought the coffee shop Dean worked in about a month back? He was a fucking asshole, with a stupid British accent, and from the very first friggin’ day, he had seemingly decided his life mission was to make Dean’s life hell. Why, Dean really didn’t know. The guy just hated him without a fucking reason, always gave him fucking _absurd_ shifts, and even made him work today – going as far as to forbid him from changing shifts with someone else. Fucking jerk.

Dean sighed. Well, he supposed there was no point in dwelling on it too much, right? He ate his breakfast, quickly got dressed and grabbed the keys of his once new and shiny Honda Civic, a present from his parents for his sixteenth birthday. He hated the damn thing – it was ugly, stupid and the most annoying shade of _yellow_ ever - but at least it got him to places, and he hadn’t had to actually spend money to buy a car himself. With another sigh, he slipped on the front seat, starting the engine, and driving off to what was surely going to be a pretty fucking terrible day at work.

 **~** ❦ **~**

Work was just as sucky as he had anticipated, and maybe even a little bit worse. The big boss seemed to have picked up on the fact Dean had a friggin’ horrible hangover, and was apparently very determined to turn this into the worst fucking day in Dean’s whole life. Dean thought he really shouldn’t be spending his twenty-seventh birthday like this. But what was he gonna do? He needed this job, and it wasn’t as if he could just tell his boss to shove it, and expect not to be fired on the spot.

Dean was just coming back in from his lunch break, a half-full cup of coffee still in hand, when he saw him.

He was beautiful, stunningly so – his body lean, yet toned, and it was pretty clear the guy was much stronger than he looked. His lips were pink, and plump, and slightly chapped, and just so, so kissable. His hair was black, and messy, and it honestly looked for all intents and purposes as though the guy had just gotten up after a long, long night of wild sex. Dean could definitely dig that.

And yet, it was not his body or his lips or his hair that caught Dean’s attention. And it certainly weren’t those that was making Dean look like a complete idiot, staring as if he had found his new reason for living.

It was his eyes.

They were beautiful, the most fucking beautiful eyes Dean had ever seen in his life, so _blue_ , and deep, and filled with an emotion Dean couldn’t exactly name, but that was there, fucking _there_ , and just made them all the more beautiful.

And they were the eyes he had been dreaming about.

Dean stared at him for a few more seconds, not knowing what to do. Should he just look away and keep on working, as if nothing had happened? No. No, he knew he could never do that. Should he talk to him? Yeah, and say what? _Hello, my name’s Dean and I know this sounds creepy and stalkerish, but believe me, guy I’ve never seen before in my life, when I say that I’m perfectly normal and sane as I tell you I’ve been dreaming about your eyes for weeks, now?_ Yeah, because that was going to turn out so well.

He bit his bottom lip – and maybe he was overthinking this, maybe he should just walk up to him and chat him up the way he would with pretty much anyone else – maybe he should flirt a little, ask him out for a cup of coffee, or a dinner, and…

…and of course, that was when his boss decided to yell at him.

“ _Moriarty_ – what do you think you’re doing?”

Dean looked up, startled, and let the cup fall down on the ground. _Shit_.

“Good job, Moriarty,” the asshole said, snorting. “Now go get a mop and clean up your mess. Immediately. I don’t have all day.” Dean stood where he was, stealing a glance to Blue Eyes as his boss glared at him. “Come on, boy. Your break ended five minutes ago.”

Dean sighed and turned to his boss again.

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” he mumbled, making his way towards the back of the shop, looking absolutely miserable.

He had kind of hoped he could go talk to Blue Eyes, maybe pretend to check if he was finished with his coffee, or something. But, of course, this was just his luck. He quickly took off his jacket, put his uniform shirt back on, and got the mop. If anything, he would’ve been able to stare at Blue Eyes some more as he cleaned up the mess on the floor, maybe go talk to him later. But when he walked back to the front of the shop, Blue Eyes had already gone. Disappeared completely, poof, his now-empty cup the only sign he had ever been there in the first place.

Dean cursed under his breath – it really seemed like today wasn’t his day, dammit – as he quickly cleaned up the floor, putting the mop away before going to get Blue Eyes’ empty cup to throw it away and clean the table. And that’s when he saw it.

On the table, next to the empty cup, there was a feather – a large feather with a note stuck to it, an address scribbled on it. Oh, damn. An address? Not one Blue Eyes needed, he hoped…

Well, actually…

Maybe, if the guy realized he needed the address and realized he didn’t have it anymore… well, maybe he’d come back here, and Dean would get a chance to talk to him. Which was good.

Dean smiled a little to himself, putting the feather and note in his pocket before going back to work, not really wanting Mr. Big Bad Boss to start yelling at him again.

 **~** ❦ **~**

By the time Dean’s shift was over, Blue Eyes hadn’t come back for his feather and address, which left Dean grumpy, and generally mad at the whole world. When he met up with Charlie that night, she immediately picked up on his bad mood, and wouldn't fucking shut up about it until Dean told her all about Blue Eyes, with his forgotten feather, and address. And his dreams. Big mistake.

See, Dean? He loved Charlie Bradbury to bits. She was his best friend, the little sister he had never had, and the absolute most important person in his life. But all that gay fanfiction she was constantly reading had really fried her brain - and by the way, how come she even liked gay fanfiction in the first place? Why would a lesbian like to read about two guys fucking, when she didn't even like guys in the first place? He watched a lot of gay – and straight, and lesbian – porn himself, but a)it wasn’t the same thing as friggin’ fanfiction and b)he was actually bi, of course he would like watching all kinds of people doing all sorts of stuff, right? Dean had dared to bring the topic up once. Never, ever again. Ever. Not after the forty-five minutes lecture he'd had to go through. The mere thought still made him shudder. He had since decided he was going to just let Charlie read her Kirk-slash-Spock, Ginny-slash-Luna and what was apparently her 'otp', whatever that meant, Thorin-slash-Bilbo. No question asked.

Now, Dean didn't have a problem with any of it. He might find it a bit weird, but, hey. That was what make Charlie happy? What got her off, or whatever? He was cool with it. The problem, however, was when Charlie inevitably started to treat him and whoever he was dating as one of her 'ships'. He remembered with supreme dread all the times that had happened.

The first time it had happened, Dean had only just admitted to himself he might be not so strictly into chicks as he had always claimed he was. He was still way into the closet – not out to Charlie, definitely not out to his parents – when Aaron had dropped into his life like a bomb.

Aaron.

Dean smiled a little at the memory. He was a good guy, Aaron. Had helped him through a lot. If it wasn’t for him, he’d probably be still deep in the closet. Aaron had been really good to him, and Dean had really liked him, but… it couldn’t last forever. It was something that both of them had known from day one. They wanted different things, _needed_ different things, and when it had been time to, they went their separate ways. No regrets. Honestly, the one who had suffered the most when he and Aaron had broken up had definitely been Charlie. Something about ships sinking, whatever that meant.

Dean’s lips twitched up a little. Charlie, man. She was completely crazy, and Dean loved her very much for it. That was the first time he was ‘shipped’ with someone else, and it was, so far, the hardest he had been shipped in his life.

There had been a couple other cases – including Cassie, a girl who worked with him that he had dated for a while when he and Charlie had first arrived in town, and Ash, a colleague of Charlie’s that she, for some reason, deemed _perfect_ for Dean – he had agreed to go on a date with him, and… nah, man. Nah, definitely not soul mates or whatever the hell Charlie thought they were. The latest one had been Lisa, the sexy yoga teacher he had hooked up with a couple of times. But since she’d gotten pregnant with another guy’s kid, even Charlie had agreed this was one ‘ship she didn’t see sailing,’ which Dean thought was nerd for saying she got why they weren’t seeing each other anymore.

“…Dean? _Dean_?”

Dean shook himself out of his thoughts, Charlie’s hands waving in front of his face as she called his name

“Yeah, sorry, Charlie,” he said, running a hand over his face and sighing. “You were saying?”

Charlie let out an exasperated sigh as he looked at Dean fondly. “I was saying, I think you should go look for this guy. I mean… you got an address. You could pretend you were being a good citizen and wanted to take this thing back to its owner – maybe you could find your pretty blue eyes again!”

Dean looked at her incredulously. “Dude. It’s a scrap of paper with an address scribbled on it. Plus a damn stupid feather. Who would drive all the way to…” he quickly checked the address. “…friggin’ _Lawrence_ just for that? I mean, even if I managed to find Blue Eyes, he’d think I’m a lunatic for doing this. It’s a four hour drive from Lebanon.”

“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t – point is, you’ll never know if you don’t try, right?” Charlie pointed out, giving Dean a shrug. “And _how_ will you ever know, if you don’t actually get outta here and go take a chance?”

It was a damn good point, and Dean had no idea how to respond to it. Charlie sighed softly, stroking Dean’s back.

“Look. I’m just saying… you haven’t had that look in your eyes in a while, now. I can tell you really like him. Plus, it’s good to do something stupid, at least every once in a while,” she said, making Dean smile a little. “Look – you remember what weekend this one is?”

Dean frowned slightly at that. “Uh… no?”

Charlie rolled her eyes and smacked the back of his head. “I was supposed to go to the battle of kingdoms, Dean – and you were, too, before you ditched me because you’re a boring, grumpy old dude.”

Right. That thing in Moondoor.

“I’m not _old_. I’m just one year older than you, for fuck’s sake.”

“Nu-uh. You’re _two_ years older for a couple more months – right now? I’m twenty-five and fabulous.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t. And you’re still boring and grumpy for not coming to the Moondoor thing.”

Dean huffed out a small breath.

“Well, honestly, I figured you wouldn’t have gone, either, after Gilda.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Charlie’s cheerful face fell, and she looked away – and Dean knew he had made one huge, huge mistake. Charlie had been dating Gilda, a pretty Irish girl who had come to town for business. Gilda was just scheduled to stay for one month, but Dean swore he had never seen Charlie so hung up on a girl before. It had been a fucking tragedy, when Gilda had left and gone back to Ireland. Charlie was still not completely over it two months later.

“…Charlie, I…”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry,” Charlie whispered, forcing out a small, sad smile.

Dean sighed and pulled her in a hug, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Wish I could do something.”

“I know,” Charlie murmured, leaning into Dean’s hug for a few moments before pulling away with a small sigh. “Anyway. As I was saying, Moondoor.”

“Yeah, what about it?” Dean asked, frowning a little at her.

“Well… I obviously had to take a few days off work to go there. And… you got a day off tomorrow, don’t you?”

“…yeah. And?”

Dean was honestly torn between being curious and absolutely fucking terrified to know what Charlie had in mind now.

“ _And,_ ” she said, grinning widely at Dean and reaching forward to grab the iPad on her coffee table, quickly typing something, nodding to herself with an _extremely_ satisfied expression on her face. Oh, this wasn’t good.

“…Charlie…?”

“Shh – give me a sec.”

Dean shut up and leaned against the back of the couch, a confused and somewhat worried look on his face. Charlie typed something else, touched the screen a couple of times – was she clicking on something? – and finally grinned. Scooting closer to Dean, she showed him the tablet, which seemed to be open on the website of some university or another.

“ _And_ , the address brings us all the way to University of Kansas. You said Blue Eyes looked like he was about your age, yeah?”

“Yeah, _and?_ Dude, I dunno where you’re getting to with all this.”

“About twenty-seven. I mean, he could be a professor, you know?” Charlie said, shrugging a little. “I mean, no guarantees he’s ever even been there, but… I suppose, it doesn’t hurt to try and see, right? So I looked for some photos, looked for blue eyes, mostly, of course, but made sure to keep in mind all you said while glorifying his hair, and his lips, and everything. So... here's a short list of guys who might or might not be the infamous man of your dreams. Take a look, tell me if you can find him.”

Dean gave her a look. This was s _tupid_. More than that, it was going full blown stalker on some guy he’d seen _once_ in his life. Plus in a few dreams. Which, creepy.

“Charlie…”

“Dean.”

“You gotta know it’s stupid _._ And… and stalkerish. And creepy. It’s probably not even him in the first place.”

“Oh, come on. It’s just looking at a _picture_. Least you can do after you spent the last two hours carefully describing every last eyelash on his perfect face,” Charlie said, giving Dean her best bitchface and handing him the tablet, looking at him expectantly.

Dean sighed, but took the tablet, started to look through the photos. At least then he could tell Charlie that, exactly as any sane person would’ve expected, no, none of them was _him_. That she was wrong, and this whole thing had been stupid and pointless.

…except, that would’ve been a lie.

Because Dean? He knew the blue eyes that were staring right back at him from the screen.

“So? Is that him?” Charlie asked, an impatient edge in her voice.

Dean stared at the picture, mouth agape, as he nodded slowly, seeing the grin that broke on Charlie’s face out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is _awesome_ ,” she said, clapping her hands, clearly excited. “God’s honest truth? Wouldn’t have put my money on this…” she quickly checked the tablet. “…Castiel Novak guy being your Blue Eyes – but hey, we found him! And he’s apparently a Theology professor, and has published a book on Angelology. Smart. Good catch,” she teased, bumping her shoulder against Dean’s, who had turned to look at her with wide eyes. “So we’re going with my plan.”

“What – what are you _even_ – what plan – _what_?”

Dean had no idea what plan she was talking about, and fuck, his life was about ninety shades of complicated and sucky.

“The _plan_!” Charlie said enthusiastically, practically bouncing on the couch. “Moondoor doesn’t necessarily need me. I have a vice for emergencies, after all. And this _is_ an emergency. So the two of us? We’re getting into that hideous car of yours tomorrow, and we’re heading off to Lawrence to meet this impossible love of yours.”

“That’s a _terrible_ plan,” Dean said giving Charlie a small glare that she was quick to return.

“No. It’s a very awesome one, thank you very much.”

“I c _an’t_ show up to some guy’s workplace four hours away from here to give him back a friggin’ feather. What’s wrong with you – that’s grade-A creepy.”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

“Don’t tell him you went there to do that, genius.”

“And why would I be there?”

“Isn’t the guy a professor? You know, teaching in a university? You could have plenty of reasons to be there. Maybe you wanted to check out the place before applying.”

“Right. And I decided to do that the day after he came to the coffee shop where I work.”

Charlie shrugged.

“You wanted to kill two birds with a stone. You remembered his face from when you checked the university website, and decided to drop by and give him back his stuff as you finally made that trip to campus.”

“He didn’t leave _stuff –_ he left a fucking _feather_.”

“So _what_?”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the beginning of a particularly painful migraine start to creep over him.

“Charlie… listen…”

“No, _you_ listen, Dean!” A very frustrated Charlie cut him off, frowning. “You spent the last two hours talking about this guy – _two hours_ , Dean! You say you’ve been dreaming about his eyes – I mean, aren’t you at least a little bit curious? You obviously like this guy, and I haven’t seen you this… this _passionate_ talking about someone in… well, I’ve never seen you this passionate at all, honestly. I just think it could be good for you, doing something… new. Different. You shouldn’t spend all your life in that crappy coffee shop. You’re young, and awesome, and the Force is strong with you, young padawan. Live a little.” She sighed, giving him a small smile and shoving him playfully. “C’mon. Just ‘cause I’m single and miserable, doesn’t mean you gotta be, too.”

Dean felt a small pang of guilt at that. Charlie was a great friend, and she only wanted what was best for him. He glared half-heartedly at her, but the glare was almost immediately washed away by a fond expression.

“That was a low blow,” he complained. “The single and miserable thing – now I’m gonna do this thing out of sheer pity.”

Charlie grinned.

“Whatever gets your ass to Lawrence, Moriarty.”

“Oh, shut it,” he grumbled, shoving Charlie right back, finally letting out a small sigh. “But when this Castiel guy thinks I’m a creeper, calls the cops to get a restraining order and no one ever wants me again because they think I’m some kind of stalker, and I end up forty-something, bitter and alone, you’re gonna marry me to get tax benefits. Least you can do. Jerk.”

“Deal!” Charlie said triumphantly, immediately jumping off the couch and sprinting towards the bedroom – they should bring a duffle bag along, she decided, with a change of clothes and some other stuff, just in case they ended up spending the night. When Dean tried to point out there was no need, really, since had to work on Saturday, well… Charlie didn’t really seem to care. He _did_ only have to go in at two, after all, as she reminded him.

Dean sighed deeply, letting out a frustrated sound as he rolled his head over the back of the couch.

He had a feeling he was going to regret all of this.

 **~** ❦ **~**

_There are blue eyes, blue eyes and a blinding white light as Dean sits at a table in what seems to be a diner, laughing softly at something someone has said – although there’s no one around, as far as he can tell. No one but himself, and those blue eyes. Can the blue eyes talk? Is there a mouth, are there lips, and a nose, behind all that blinding white light?_

_The scenery is fuzzy at best and Dean doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, but he knows that, given the chance, he’d gladly stay forever. The light is beautiful, and warm, and he knows his laugh is happier than it’s been in a long time. His heart is thumping furiously in his chest, sheer, utter happiness coursing through his veins as he sits at that table, with that being made of light, and eyes. Eyes so blue and beautiful._

_He knows it’s crazy, that he should probably not even think something like this, but… he’s in love with this light that’s engulfing him, those blue eyes looking at him as if they could see his very soul – as if they found that sight the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen in their entire life. As if they were in love with him, too. Dean feels his heart skipping a beat at the thought, his breath hitching. How could something so pure, so… perfect and beautiful love someone like him? He’s nothing special. But the light… the eyes. They are, they clearly are._

_A voice talks, and it’s the deep, gravelly voice Dean has learned to associate with those huge blue eyes – but it isn’t scared, this time. It’s soft, and fond, and happy. So, so happy._

_It never says more than just a single word._ Dean _. And it’s as if Dean’s the only word the voice even knows, the only one that really matters. As if Dean himself is the only thing that really matters._

 _Dean feels his heart fluttering happily at the thought, and he simply leans forward over the table,_ _reveling_ _in the brightness of the light, and the love he sees so clearly in those sweet, sweet blue eyes._

_As he lets out a small, happy sigh, a single word falls from his mouth, a word that’s so foreign, and yet so familiar._

“ _Cas…”_

 **~** ❦ **~**

The traffic on the way to Lawrence was fucking hell – stupid Interstate with its stupid cars – but at least he had good company. He and Charlie chattered, sang along to whatever song came up on the radio, and played stupid road-trip games. He hadn’t said a single word about the new dream, nor he was going to, because he was pretty sure he would’ve had to endure _years_ of endless teasing otherwise. He was not prepared to do that.

All in all, he was having more fun than he’d had in ages. Dean hadn’t realized how long it had been since he and Charlie had last done something like this together, and how much he had missed it. They saw each other nearly every day, yeah, but… they usually just had dinner, occasionally went to the cinema, or to some bar to either pick girls up, or get drunk. Or both. They hadn’t done anything crazy and spontaneous in a while, and Dean vowed to himself this would change.

They arrived to Lawrence a little after 1pm, and after grabbing some lunch, and checking in a motel – okay, okay, Charlie was right, they could and probably _should_ stay the night, because _crazy and spontaneous_ , yeah, whatever – they got to University of Kansas.

Dean’s stomach was twisting nervously, a strange, unknown longing in his heart to see the man whose eyes had so often haunted his dreams in the last few weeks. It was crazy, if he let himself think about it – because, really? How could he be so pathetically hung up on someone he had seen _once_ in his life? And okay, okay, there was the dreaming of his eyes thing but… they were dreams. If Dean thought about it logically, he knew he couldn’t have _possibly_ dreamed of his eyes, that he probably just dreamed of blue eyes that just so happened to be similar to this guy’s. It was simple, basic _logic._ And yet, somewhere in his heart, in a corner hidden so deep inside him he was pretty sure he was never going to admit it even to himself, ever, he knew – just knew – that simple, basic logic was flawed. And it scared him, how deeply rooted inside him that belief was – almost as if it came from his very soul.

Charlie gave Dean a thumbs-up as they walked into the reception office of the Theology department, and he sighed, trying not to look too much like some weird crazy stalker.

“Hey there,” he said, smiling widely at the girl behind the corner – and oh, good, a girl, so at least if he couldn’t flirt his way right into Castiel Novak’s office, Charlie could try to. “Uh… I was here to see Castiel Novak – I’m…”

But he never got the chance to finish his sentence, because the girl brightened up and cut him off, nodding.

“Oh, yes. Yes, of course – Doctor Novak said you would be coming. Dean Moriarty, right?” she asked, turning her back at Dean and Charlie, who gave each other completely shocked looks as the girl flipped through some papers, finally turning back to them as they struggled to wipe the surprised look off their faces. Thankfully, the girl didn’t seem to notice anything.

“Tall, green eyes, freckles… looking for Doctor Novak… it must be you. Doctor Novak called this morning – unfortunately he isn’t feeling too well, so he’s taking the day off – and as you probably already know, he isn’t going to be here all next week, but his TA dropped by, asked me to give you this when you’d come to look for Doctor Novak.” She put a white envelope on the counter, the name ‘Dean’ written in a tidy, rather beautiful handwriting on it. Dean took it, absolutely speechless, wondering just what the hell was going on as the girl kept talking in the background. Charlie brought him back to reality, discretely elbowing him in the ribs – which, _ow_.

“Thank you _so_ much for your help – we’re sorry to hear Castiel’s not well – _right,_ _Dean?”_ she said, giving Dean a look.

“Oh – oh, yeah, sorry. I just… kinda zoned out,” Dean said, giving the girl the most charming smile he could muster up – which she returned with a polite smile of her own.

“Listen,” Charlie piped in again, smiling at the girl, too – just one of the many things he and Charlie had in common, using their charm to get something they really wanted, or get out of the weirdest, crappiest situations. “Dean and I kinda drove a long way to come here – and we’re _really_ in kind of a rush to talk to Castiel. Do you know if he’s gonna come to work tomorrow, or…?”

The girl frowned, very clearly taken aback. “Doctor Novak? On a _Saturday_?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Dean and Charlie, as if suddenly doubting their identity. “And you know as well as I do, he’s flying out tomorrow.”

Dean didn’t even need to look at Charlie to know she was panicking like mad, right now.

“Oh, tomorrow’s _Saturday._ Right,” Dean said, making a face and shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe they had just asked about Castiel being here tomorrow. “The things a long drive can do to you, right?”

He chuckled, and the girl laughed along with him, pretty much every trace of doubt falling from her face. He put up a charming smile again, leaning over the counter a little. It would be weird if he asked where the hell Castiel Novak was supposed to go, or to have his number, or address, since he was supposed to be his _friend_ or some shit.

But how the hell did a guy he had never talked to know his name? Why had he left an envelope for him? It couldn’t be just a weird coincidence, right? How many fucking Dean Moriartys could there be in Lawrence, Kansas? Especially tall, with green eyes and freckles?

Just what the hell was going on here?

“Thank you _so_ much for your help. I suppose we’ll just have to come back on Monday – oh, not this Monday, the next, of course – right Charlie?” Dean asked, turning towards Charlie, who had plastered a small smile on her face again, bu still looked a whole lot like a deer caught in headlights. Dean internally rolled his eyes. Crap. “Now, if you don’t mind… we should get back to our motel. Again, thank you.”

The girl smiled kindly. “It was my pleasure – I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yes. Most definitely,” Dean said, still smiling as he tugged Charlie towards the door, not stopping until they were well out of the building, where the girl from the office couldn’t hear them anymore.

They stopped then, identical stunned expression on their faces as they looked at each other.

“Dude,” Charlie whispered, her eyes huge. “What the hell?”

Dean very much wished he could answer that question.

 **~** ❦ **~**

Three hours and a great deal of shocked looks between them later, Charlie and Dean were in their motel room, trying to figure out what the hell had happened, exactly. No theory made one lick of sense, so far.

Charlie had tried to dig up Castiel Novak's address on the internet, but with no luck. Charlie was more than a little frustrated about that, Dean still incredulous. Charlie not being able to dig up something? That was definitely new.

Unable to track the guy down, they had opened the envelope, finding another feather – and what was that, by the way, some weird kink or something? – and the address of some dude’s house in Palo Alto, down in California. Some dude Dean had never heard of before, and who seemed to have no connection whatsoever to Castiel Novak. Almost twice his age, a lawyer, was a Stanford alumnus whereas Castiel Novak had gone to Cornell. They had no idea what to make of it.

“Dude, I got nothing,” Dean finally said, flopping down on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a rather shell-shocked expression. “None of this is even remotely _possible_ unless we accept the existence of the Doctor, or Harry freaking Potter, or _both_ as real. Either way, I’m taking the damn envelope back to that office, say there’s been a mistake, and hightail the fuck outta here as far as humanly possible. I want nothing to do with _any_ of this.”

Charlie watched him for a few seconds, lost in thought, finally shrugging.

“I don’t know, Dean. I think we should check this thing out.”

“Check this thing out?” Dean asked, turning to her, his eyes wide as he looked at her as if she was crazy. “Dude, no. This shit is weird, and scary – and I want no friggin’ part in it.”

Charlie rolled her eyes a little.

“Look. It’s just another address. It’s just some guy. Maybe he can clear it all up – I mean, aren’t you at _least_ a little bit curious?”

“Of _course_ I’m curious. I’m just saying, this is too weird, and we probably shouldn’t get involved,” Dean said, frowning at her.

Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Since when does Dean Moriarty say no to a little bit of adventure?”

Dean huffed out a little, looking away from her. And honestly? This was almost _killing_ him. He wasn’t simply curious, he needed to know, and he needed to know _now_. And yeah, Charlie had a point. It was an excuse to get that little bit of adventure his life had been missing lately. But still…

“…I have to work tomorrow, you know that.”

Charlie made a face at him.

“Seriously, Dean? _Work_? You’d pick a job you hate, with a boss that makes you feel like crap, over an adventure?” she asked, shaking her head. “Call in sick tomorrow, and let’s get it over with.”

“And have the douche on my case for _ages_? No thanks. Besides, it’s about a _twenty-six_ hour drive from here to Palo Alto. How d’you propose we get there and get back here in time for me to work on Sunday?”

“Seriously? It’s what planes are for, Dean.”

“Oh – _no friggin’ way,_ ” Dean said, glaring at her. “I hate planes. You know that. No way I’m letting you convince me to spontaneously lock myself into one for three or four hours. No.”

“Then quit your stupid job like I’ve been telling you to do for ages,” Charlie said, letting out a frustrated sigh and pouting at Dean. “I don’t even know why you insist on working there, Dean, you –”

“Don’t you dare bringing that up.”

“Oh, I _am_ bringing it up,” Charlie said vehemently, her eyes blazing as she looked at Dean. “And you know why? Because I’m your friend, and this is getting ridiculous – no, you listen to me, Dean,” she cut him off before he could protest. “I’ve been patient. I haven’t said a single word about this, haven’t said anything when you just went on living your life pretending none of this ever happened – but pretty guys with blue eyes aside, do you even _know_ how crazy that is? You inherited _seven million dollars,_ Dean.”

Dean looked away from her, his face shutting down as he sat up, his hands fisting into the comforter so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I really, really don’t want to talk about that.”

Charlie’s expression softened, and she sighed a little, moving to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed.

“Dean…”

“You know I don’t want that money. You know _why_ I don’t want that money. I wouldn’t have even deposited the stupid check, if it wasn’t for you.”

“I know,” Charlie murmured, reaching up to stroke Dean’s back soothingly. “I’m sorry.”

Dean leaned into her touch, shaking his head.

“No problem.”

He knew Charlie hadn’t meant to hurt him. He knew she was trying to help, and he knew he would’ve probably done exactly the same thing.

Seven million dollars. Sitting in his savings account, useless.

He sighed, running his hand down his face.

Honestly, he wished he had just ripped the stupid check.

He had never been close to his parents – never felt like he really belonged in the Moriarty family, but he had always tried, so hard. Tried to be a good son. He always brought good grades back home, he had gotten into Harvard pre-law without even needing his dad to call his friends down at the admission office, and he had been prepared to get into politics, marry a nice girl, and make his parents proud.

When he thought about it, he didn’t know what, exactly, had changed. Or when. He supposed it had been a gradual thing – meeting Charlie, who was a Freshman at MIT while he was a Sophomore at Harvard, becoming his best friend, renting an apartment with her, not being watched every single moment of his day for the very first time in his life…then Aaron, Charlie hugging him and telling him she loved him when he came out to her as bi, his own parents saying they never wanted to hear a word from him again, instead.

He supposed it was only normal, that he had ended up snapping. Left college just months away from graduation, started working not to have to depend on anyone anymore, dating Aaron no matter what his parents had to say about that. Started doing what he wanted with his life.

Fast forward a few years, and he was well settled in Lebanon, Charlie doing her computer geek thing, him working in a coffee shop. Not exactly a hundred percent satisfied with his life, but… feeling what he had was enough. That he could actually be reasonably happy.

And that was when he had gotten the news of his parents dying.

A car crash on their way back from a party, no survivors. Only in their early fifties, they had probably never really expected to be so close to their death. Regardless of all that had happened, they hadn’t yet changed their will, so all their money had been left to their only son. Who couldn’t have been less willing to take it.

For all that could be said about Dean, he had never been greedy, never all that interested in his parents’ money. What he always needed, always craved… it had been their love. And he had lost his chance to ever get that the moment he had come out to them. And honestly? In the last few months before their death, he hadn’t been sure he even wanted that love anymore. He’d much rather be who he was without anyone telling him it was wrong, or unnatural, or whatever crap they would come up with.

But still.

Thing was, he had spent his entire life trying to please his parents, make them proud. And as stupid as it might be, he couldn’t help thinking, in a small, secluded corner of his mind, that he had let them down. Disappointed them. And no matter how many times Charlie told him he wasn’t the one in the wrong, and if there was someone who had let someone else down, it had been his parents who had let _him_ down – no matter how he rationally knew that himself. He just couldn’t bring himself to let go of that thought.

He sighed deeply, running a hand over his face, chewing on his bottom lip.

There was no denying the curiosity was strong. And it wasn’t just curiosity, either. There was, always had been…. something more – be it his dreams, whatever they meant, or the white envelope sitting on his nightstand – inevitably dragging him towards Castiel Novak. And he didn’t know why, but Charlie was right – he had to find out. He needed to go on this adventure, take this chance.

He glanced at her, his face a weird cross between a smile, an annoyed look, and a fond one.

“Alright. We’re going to Palo Alto. And…” he hesitated for a few moments. “…and, we’re going there by plane.”

No matter how fucking scared he was, he wanted to know what the deal was with Castiel Novak and him knowing who Dean was. And he honestly didn’t feel ready to spend his parents’ money. Not yet, anyway.

He turned to look at Charlie, seeing that a wide smile had broken on her face.

“I _knew_ it!” she said, pulling Dean in a quick hug, which he returned, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, yeah – but you know what? Tonight’s been a fucking long day, and it’s probably a very bad idea, but I just wanna hit a bar and get drunk. What d’you say?”

Charlie shrugged.

“Sounds good. I’d kinda planned to do that anyway, you know. Pay a visit to the nearest bar, get a drink, see if there was someone interesting. I figured you’d be back home with your pretty Blue Eyes, by then. I wasn’t gonna sit around while you scored.”

“I can’t _believe_ that,” Dean said, making a face at Charlie, to which she replied by raising her eyebrow.

“What? You would’ve totally gone back to his place. Don’t try to deny it. And you really expected me to just stay? Turn down the chance to get a drink and some awesome sex?”

Dean laughed a little, shaking his head.

Sometimes it freaked him out, how much he and Charlie really had in common.

 **~** ❦ **~**

The bar was crowded, which kinda figured, it being Friday night. A good number of hot girls around, a couple of guys who were _really_ not bad, but no one really seemed to catch Dean’s eye. He hated to admit it, because it was stupid, and it made him seem like some kind of love-struck teenager, but the truth was, he couldn’t get the image of Castiel Novak’s blue eyes out of his head.

A girl flirted with him a bit, a _very_ hot guy offered to buy him a drink, and another girl practically jumped his bones right then and there, but he turned them all down, not really interested. Geez, he really was a grumpy old man, wasn’t he? He was just contemplating this newly discovered truth about himself as he drank a beer with Charlie, when an exceptionally pretty girl, with a nice body, long, shiny hair and bright green eyes smiled a predatory smile at him, walking towards where he and Charlie were sitting as she greeted in a British accent, “Hey there.”

Dean considered her for a second – and yeah, she was hot. Any other day? He’d have offered to buy her a drink before she could even say hello. But tonight? …not so much.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m not really in the mood ton-”

“Oh no. Sorry. I really think there’s been a… misunderstanding, here,” the girl said, shaking her head just slightly and smiling again – and Dean realized, she hadn’t come for _him_.

Oh. _Oh._ He glanced behind himself at Charlie, still oblivious to what was going on as she sipped on her beer.

“Oh, gotcha. Sorry,” he said, nodding a little, smirking to himself as he elbowed Charlie’s ribs just slightly. “I’m Dean, this is my friend Charlie. And… I’m guessing you’d wanna sit here in my place, yeah?”

The girl smiled a little to herself, and Dean felt Charlie perk up in interest behind him – and as he glanced at her, he saw her eyes widening at the sight of the girl, a small smirk appearing on her lips.

“Pleasure. I’m Bela. And yes, that would be wonderful. If Charlie doesn’t have a problem with it, that is.”

Dean didn’t even have to look at Charlie to know that no, she really, really didn’t have a problem with it. He slid down his stool, gesturing towards it. “All yours,” he said, turning to Charlie, exchanging a small, knowing smile with her, and patting her back. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Going back to the motel?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t get drunk again, anyway. And I’m not really in the mood for… anything else.”

Charlie nodded back, smirking a little to herself.

“I’m guessing you’ll find better company in your dreams anyway, uh?” she said, winking at him as he flushed a little and glared. “See you, bitch. Don’t let dream-you do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“As if there’s anything you wouldn’t do,” he retorted, and it was Charlie’s turn to blush a little. “I’ll see you later – it was nice to meet you, Bela.”

“You, too,” Bela said, not even looking at Dean as he walked away, too focused on Charlie.

Dean smiled.

It seemed like Charlie was about to have a very interesting night.

 **~** ❦ **~**

_The blue eyes are anxious, but it’s a good anxiety, Dean can easily tell that much. And there’s longing there, too. Anticipation. The blue eyes are ready to do this, and as they lean forward, the light surrounds Dean and he feels something being pressed against his mouth. Lips. Wonderfully soft, if slightly chapped lips._

_Now, Dean knows he should probably be freaked that something so pure, something made of light and blue, innocent eyes kissing_ _him_ _so softly, and yet with such unmistakable intent. But Dean isn’t freaked – he’s happy, and in love, and he wants those blue eyes and their light so much he’s sure it’s gonna drive him crazy._

_He closes his eyes, returns the kiss, pouring everything he has into it – all the love he can possibly give, because he wants the blue eyes to know, he’s gonna take care of them. He’s gonna make sure they feel good – better than they ever have._

_When he pulls back, the light is fading, and he’s sure it should scare him, it isn’t exactly disappearing._ _It’s just_ changing _, turning into something just as beautiful, but most definitely corporeal._

_It takes a few moments for the process to be over, and in the end, the most beautiful man Dean has ever seen appears beneath him, naked as Dean himself is, looking at him with such love and devotion that Dean’s heart aches._

_The motel room where they are is ugly – the mattress of their bed is crap, the sheets stained, and the owner is f_ _rankly a little shady, by which Dean means, even more shady than the motel owners they usually have to deal with. Dean is, honestly, more than a little bit upset with himself, because his Blue Eyes don’t –_ _his_ Cas _doesn’t deserve his first time to be in some crappy motel room. Cas should have the chance to do this in a beautiful room, with red, silk sheets and rose petals everywhere. He should be with someone who could offer him all that, and definitely not with Dean, because Dean? He has nothing to offer him. Only himself._

_And yet, for Castiel, that seems to be more than enough._

_The mere thought is something that will never cease to amaze and sort of scare Dean – and maybe it’s selfish, but… the truth is, he’s not going to complain. He’s going to take, take, take all that Cas is willing to give, for as long as he’ll be willing to give it._

_Cas seems to read Dean, see those thoughts, and his brow furrows, sudden unhappiness appearing on his face._

_Dean kisses his frown, and his eyelids, his temples and the apples of his cheeks, breathing his name in between kisses, his hands wandering over his beautiful body._

_Cas responds saying just “Dean”, and though that’s all that Dean’s ears ear, his heart knows what Cas really means. It means Cas loves him, and that’s never going to change. It means Dean is special, and everything Cas really needs to be happy._

_Dean doesn’t know if that’s true, if he can be enough for Cas forever, as he kisses him again and again, grinding against him and making the most beautiful sounds fall from his lips. But he knows all he can do is hope._

_Right now, though, he can’t make this about himself, about his worries and fears._ _Tonight is supposed to be about Cas, and it will be._

_Dean has had sex countless time in his life, for all sorts of different reasons, but this? This is his first time really making love to someone. He never thought it would be in any way different, really – because sex is just sex after all, right? – but Cas has changed everything, in the best possible way, since he’s walked into Dean’s life._

_Dean has been blessed, truly blessed, to have Cas in his life – and let it never be said that Dean isn’t thankful, that he doesn’t give back what life has granted him._

_So, each and every blessing Cas has brought into Dean’s life with his presence, Dean gives back with soft kisses all over Cas’ body, he gives back as he stretches him slowly, carefully, Cas begging him with soft whisper of his name in his ear, as Dean silently promises with a kiss to his temple that yes, yes, he’s almost ready, just one more minute and he’s ready. Most of all, Dean gives those blessings back when he finally, finally pushes into Cas, feeling the tight heat of him surrounding him as Cas gasps at the feeling, looking up at him with wide eyes._

_It doesn’t take long from there before they’re moving together, the sounds of their breath and skin slapping together the only noise in the room save for the occasional murmurs of each other’s names._

_Neither of them lasts for long after that, and as Dean feels his climax washing over him, it’s as if the blinding white light from before had invaded his body, leaving him exhausted, and happier and lighter than he has ever been before._

_As Dean falls on the mattress next to him, Cas scoots closer to him, an expression of bliss on his face, and Dean is sure that if he died now, he wouldn’t have a single regret as he holds Cas close in his arms, a bright light surrounding them as the dingy motel room fades away around them._

**~** ❦ **~**

The following morning, Dean woke up with the worst, most embarrassing case of morning wood he had ever experienced in his life, and with the almost complete certainty he must be going crazy.

First, he had dreamed about the eyes of some random dude he had never met before for weeks.

Second, he had met the dude, who had forgotten – purposely left? – a feather in the coffee shop where he worked.

Third, he had had the cheesiest, most embarrassing dream about said dude, and decided to go stalk him at his workplace.

Fourth, the dude somehow knew he was going to come and look for him, and had left him an envelope _with his freaking first and last name_ even though they had never even talked to each other before.

Fifth, he just had a wet dream about the dude, and it had somehow managed to be even cheesier than the last dream.

…yes, he was totally going crazy. There was no other possible explanation.

Okay, so, this went straight to the list of things he must never, ever tell Charlie. Wet dreams about Castiel Novak? Yeah, no way she was going to let him live that one down. Dean surely wouldn’t have let her live down something like that, either, to be perfectly honest.

Speaking of Charlie, he glanced at her bed, and as he predicted, she hadn’t come back. He sighed a little, sat up and reached for his phone on the nightstand, just to check if Charlie had sent him a message or something.

…and yeah, so, apparently Charlie was having breakfast at Bela’s, and wanted Dean to come get her later – though she urged him not to rush, since she was pretty sure there was a chance to get one more round before it was time to go.

Dean smiled to himself.

So, apparently, Charlie had had a good night. And breakfast, and morning sex, too, huh? Lucky girl.

He checked the time and texted her back, saying he would gather up their things and go get her in a couple of hours, so she could have some more time with Bela, and they could just go directly to the airport after.

The lack of a reply from Charlie was much more eloquent than a thousand texts.

At least she was really getting some, instead of just having wet dreams about some guy who may or may not be a stalker, and may or may not be sending him to some serial killer’s house in Palo Alto. He always had _such_ good taste, when it came to men.

He stood, set his phone back on the nightstand, walked to the bathroom and quickly got rid of his… little problem, before getting ready to leave.

He checked out of the motel and loaded the car, going to a nearby diner for some breakfast, calling his boss to let him know he was ‘sick’, and wouldn’t go to work today –surprisingly, the jerk didn’t bitch too much – as he waited for the two hours to be over.

By the time he got to Bela’s house, sending a text to Charlie to let her know he was there, he almost regretted they couldn’t stay in Lawrence a few more days. As he saw the two girls kissing goodbye on the front porch, Bela slipped a piece of paper, with what was sure to be her number scribbled on, into Charlie’s hand with a small wink, Dean was more than glad that Lebanon wasn’t too far away from Lawrence – Charlie could really use a distraction from the whole Gilda thing. And Bela seemed to be a pretty good distraction, if Charlie’s grin and the way she practically floated in mid-air as she walked back to the car were any indication.

“Hey there, had a good night?” she asked as she slipped into the passenger seat, looking for all intents and purposes like someone who had just had the best sex of his life – which, hey, maybe she had. Dean certainly hoped so, for her sake.

He smirked at her as he started the car.

“Well, I was hoping _you_ would tell me about your night,” he said as he pulled out onto the road, glancing at Charlie briefly, seeing her smiling and shrugging.

“It was… a good night,” she murmured, a small blush on her cheeks. Oooh, so she did like this Bela girl. And a lot, apparently.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dean said, laughing a little. “And honestly? I kinda get it. Beautiful girl with a hot accent and a house like _that_? Bet she’s got at least five guest rooms, and you’ve done it at least once in each of them.”

Charlie laughed, too, shaking her head a little.

“Yeah, well… that house _is_ huge,” she said, nodding a little to herself. “And only four guest rooms. We haven’t gotten around to all of them, but we may have the chance to.”

Dean smirked.

“Wouldn’t expect any less from you,” he said, turning to wink at her. “So… tell me about this Bela girl. She seems pretty awesome.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up and her smile widened as she looked at Dean, nodding. “Yeah, she _is_ ,” she said enthusiastically, which only made Dean smile more. “You know I’m really into British accents. And she’s so… strong, and confident, and charming – and she isn’t into video games, or computers, _but_ she likes _Star Wars_ and _Harry Potter_ – and she promised she’ll give Tolkien and _Star Trek_ a try. And she’s smart as hell, you know? She works for the local newspaper and she’s about to get her PhD in journalism. And she’s beautiful, a great kisser, and…”

Dean smiled to himself.

“And, you like her a lot.”

“Guilty as charged,” Charlie said, a sheepish smile on her face as she looked up at Dean.

“Well, I’m happy for you, Charlie. Really,” he said, nodding as he took a turn left. “I mean, Lebanon isn’t all that far away from Lawrence, you know? I’m not saying you should immediately start to get serious with her but… you know. You could try and get to know each other better. See if this thing might go somewhere with her. You sure as hell like her, and she clearly likes you enough to give you her number.”

Charlie smiled and admitted that, yeah, Dean had a point, as she sank back into her seat, falling quiet.

Dean didn’t say anything more, and they just sat in comfortable silence during the whole ride, his lips absolutely sealed about the dream.

 **~** ❦ **~**

Once they were at the airport, Charlie and Dean found a nice spot and parked the car there, grabbed their bags and went to get tickets for a flight to Palo Alto.

As was predicted, the flight was pretty much the stuff of Dean’s worst nightmares, although Charlie insisted he should just try to relax, and that ‘a little bit of turbulence’ was normal. Right. A little bit, his ass.

Dean had never been happier than when they finally landed, and he sprinted out of the airplane so fast it made Charlie, the plane staff, and the other passengers laugh. Jerks. Flying was unnatural, okay? If God, or whoever or whatever else created this crazy world had wanted men to fly, he’d have given them wings. And maybe it was a stupid argument, but fuck it, Dean was gonna stick with it for the rest of his life.

Charlie took Dean’s arm, leading him out of the airport as she barely kept herself from laughing, pushed him into a cab and had to listen to all his angry rants about planes and how they were clearly the Devil’s doing until they got to the address Castiel Novak had left for him.

He paid for the ride, got out of the cab with Charlie, and walked to the right house, watching it carefully. It honestly seemed like a nice suburban house like many others, with a certain warm and welcoming look to it, and a freshly mowed lawn. Dean imagined it had to be the home of one of those nice families straight out of a cheesy movie, with a husband, a wife, a dog and two point five children – they even had the cliché white picket fence, for crying out loud.

Dean looked at Charlie, and he felt terribly stupid. He did want to know what the deal with Castiel Novak was, sure, but… should he really go and annoy the hell out of whoever lived here, looking for answers they would probably not be able to give, most probably ending up creeping the fuck out of them? It really didn’t seem fair.

But still, part of Dean knew, just knew that he had to do this. This one was a mystery he had to solve, no matter if it made him look like a creep. He nodded at Charlie, who nodded back at him and gave him a small, encouraging smile, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder, which made him relax a great deal. It was good that, whatever was gonna happen, he would be with Charlie – honestly, he had no idea what he’d do, if it wasn’t for her.

He took a deep breath, walked up to the front door, climbed up the three steps of the porch before knocking, nervousness and anticipation bubbling up inside him as Charlie waited for the door to open with wide, curious eyes.

The moment the door opened, Dean found himself in front of a mountain of a man – had to be in his fifties, so freakishly tall he had to crane his neck back a little to look at him, his hazel eyes wide, his face pale. The poor dude looked very much like someone who had just seen a ghost, his lips trembling a little before a single word fell down his lips.

“…Dean?”

 **~** ❦ **~**

Dean would have very, very much liked to know how it was, that lately every dude he had never met before in his friggin’ life seemed to suddenly know his name. What in the actual hell?

He was just about to voice this very thought, when suddenly the freakishly tall man’s face closed down, and he pulled Dean inside the house, pushing him against the wall near the door, and growling, as Charlie gasped a small, “Dean…!”, lunged forward and tried to pull the huge man off Dean. But the man was huge, and pretty fucking fit, too, and he easily kept Dean there, his eyes narrowed and filled with disgust. Dean would have very much liked to know exactly why he was being looked at as if he was the most disgusting lowlife to ever exist.

“Who are you – _what_ are you? What are you doing here? What do you _still_ want with me? Haven’t I given _enough_?”

Dean blinked, wondering just what the hell this lunatic was going on about.

“…dude, I think you’ve got the wrong person, whatever the hell you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you _dare-_ ” the man hissed, his grip on the lapels of Dean’s coat tightening as he looked at him, eyes blazing. “He’s been dead for _years_. I _quit_ , you son of a bitch. Leave me and my family alone. How _dare_ you, make yourself look like him to –”

“Look like him? I don’t – who’s been dead for years?” Dean asked, looking at the guy as if he was crazy – which, let’s be real, he probably was.

“Don’t lie!” the man growled, so close to Dean’s face that Dean could feel his breath on his skin. Dean tried to push him back, or move farther away, but couldn’t manage either. The guy had clearly lost his mind, and Dean needed to get away, _now_.

“I’m _not_ – dude, I don’t even know who you are, I don’t know who died, and I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about – I was… God, I just wanted to see if you could help me clear something up,” Dean said – and it was clear that his expression was confused and baffled enough that the guy finally believed him.

The tall man’s face broke into an expression of joy, bewilderment and longing, all flashing across his face quickly as he took a step back, and Dean sighed in relief as he got back part of his precious personal bubble.

“…Dean?” the man breathed again, as if he didn’t dare to hope, and Dean seriously considered kneeing him in the crotch, and running away from here as quickly as possible.

He finally rolled his eyes, pushing the guy farther away and shifting closer to Charlie, frowning at the man. “Yeah, that’s my name. I think it’s pretty clear to all of us, that I’m Dean. In fact, _everyone_ in this whole friggin’ world seems to know who I am, no matter that I don’t know them,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing the guy suspiciously.

Charlie took his arm, squeezing it a little and looking at the man as if she hadn’t decided what to make of this whole situation, although it was clear, from the look in the eyes, that she was definitely gonna stay here until she got some answers.

“Who are you?” she asked, wary after the man had shoved Dean against the wall for no good reason.

The guy sighed looking between the two of them, an utterly heartbroken look on his face – and for a moment, Dean didn’t want answers, or anything. He just really wanted to give the guy a hug, tell him everything was going to be okay, even though he didn’t even know what was wrong in the first place.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” he murmured, eyes locking onto Dean’s, searching them, but apparently not finding whatever he was looking for. He sighed softly, running his hand over his face. “Look, I, uh… I’m sorry about… before. I thought you were someone else.”

Dean nodded, thinking this was still all pretty creepy, and that guy – Sam – wasn’t exactly all there, and Dean was ready to react if he had tried anything again.

“Yeah, I got that,” he said dryly, frowning slightly at him. The corner of Sam’s lips curled up just slightly, and for some reason, that annoyed the shit out of Dean, even though he tried to be reasonable about it, and calm down. “This is my friend Charlie,” he added as Sam gave her nod.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Charlie replied politely, although she was very clearly not a hundred percent sure whether she did consider it nice.

Sam nodded again and opened the door wider, gesturing for Dean and Charlie to come inside. “We can go to the living room. Talk a little. I can make you coffee, if you want.”

Charlie and Dean exchanged a glance, hesitating for a few moments before silently deciding that, yeah, they could get in. But the moment this Sam Winchester guy started to act creepy again? They were out of there, that much was sure.

They walked in, Sam closing the door behind them before leading them to the living room, gesturing towards the couch. “Sit down, I’ll go get you guys some coffee, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks,” Dean said as he sat down next to Charlie – because yeah, a coffee seemed like a nice idea, and he could really use one, right now.

Sam nodded and smiled somewhat awkwardly, disappearing in another room as Charlie and Dean exchanged another look.

“If he comes back with a gun, you’re gonna sacrifice yourself for me,” Dean said, a stern look on his face.

Charlie let out a small, outraged sound.

“What? And why would I do that, uh?”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “Because if you had listened to me, we would be back in Lebanon, by now.”

“Yeah. On the other hand, though – you’re a grumpy old man, and you’re single. Me? I got someone who’s kinda waiting for my call down in Lawrence. And you have seven million dollars I would inherit if you died.”

Dean scoffed. “ _You_ would inherit? Says who?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s implied – who else do you wanna leave all that money to? The tooth fairy?”

Dean glared. “You’re such a complete asshole.”

Charlie grinned widely. “I know! I love you, too.”

Both of their heads snapped up at a small chuckle coming from the doorway, and they both turned, finding Sam Winchester looking at them, clearing his throat a little when they turned towards him.

“Uh… sorry. I just… my brother and I. We used to do this, too. You know. Talk the way you two do.”

“You have a brother?” Dean asked, immediately a little more interested in this guy. Being an only child had never been fun. He had always wished he could have a little brother to play with, but a second child… just never came. Or so his parents said. Dean had no idea if that was true, or if they simply didn’t want to have to take care of two children instead of just one – although, it wasn’t as if they had ever really taken care of Dean. That was what all his various nannies were for.

“Yes, an older brother,” Sam said, turning sad again and sighing as he sat down, pushing two cups of coffee – were they freaking _silver_? – towards Dean and Charlie over the coffee table. “Or, well… I used to. He died almost twenty-eight years ago.”

“Oh,” Dean murmured, feeling sad, too, as he watched the guy. Poor dude. He might be a bit of a weirdo, but no one deserved to lose someone that important. “I’m sorry,” he offered as Charlie gave Sam a sympathetic smile, to which he replied with a smile of his own, and a small shake of his head.

“No need to. It was… a long time ago,” he murmured, although it was very clear that he still suffered over whatever had happened to his brother.

Dean, on his part, was pretty sure if he had a brother and he died, he would never really recover. Hell, he knew if something happened to Charlie, who was, for all intents and purposes, the little sister he had never had, he would never get over it. He could only imagine what this guy was feeling – and he could only imagine what it must’ve been for him back when it had just happened, if he was still suffering so much twenty-eight years later. Dean prayed he never had to find out for sure.

He scooted a little closer to Charlie, leaning against her as they both took a sip of their coffee, which was alright, if a little bit too watery. He noticed Sam tensing a little before he and Charlie took their first sip, almost as if he was expecting something to happen, and he wondered why, what exactly Sam was waiting for, although he immediately decided to avoid asking once Dean saw him relaxing again. After all, they had been talking about his dead brother he clearly still missed – maybe it was related to that, more than it was related to the two of them sipping on their coffee.

“So,” Sam said quietly, watching Dean and Charlie intently as if they were a very interesting puzzle he was trying to figure out, his eyes eventually landing on Dean. “You said you had… something to ask? Something you wanted for me to clear up…?”

“Oh – oh, yeah… right,” Dean said, pulling out the white envelope with his name on from his duffle bag, looking at it for a few long seconds before looking back up at Sam. “Just giving you a quick heads up - this is gonna sound… totally crazy,” Dean warned, sighing a little. “Also, kinda a long story. So… let me finish before you say anything, yeah?”

Sam Winchester watched him, a very amused glint in his eyes.

“I think you’ll find shocking _me_ is… a little more difficult than you’d think,” he said, giving Dean a small smile as he shifted a little into his seat, getting comfortable. “Go ahead. Not gonna interrupt you.”

Dean nodded slowly, taking a few moments to think of where, exactly, he should start. No matter what this guy said, this was going to sound really, really crazy.

“Okay, so… uh… a few weeks ago. Say… sometime before Christmas. I started to… to have these weird dreams. At first, it was just blue eyes, and a white light. Then… I dunno. It got… got different. More articulated, I guess. But the eyes were always there – no face, no body, just eyes and a white light,” he finally started, watching Sam closely, feeling Charlie’s hand resting on his forearm, rubbing soothing circles there. “I didn’t think much of it, to be honest. I thought they were… weird dreams, but just dreams. Until…” he sighed, frowning a little. “A couple of days ago, I saw a guy. And I know it seems crazy, but… his eyes? They were the ones I keep dreaming about. He left… some stuff in the coffee shop where I work,” No friggin’ way in hell he was gonna admit what he had left was nothing but a freaking feather. “And there was an address. Charlie, here – she found out it was the address of University of Kansas in Lawrence, which is a four-hour drive from where we live. She also looked through some staff photos, and found out the guy was Castiel Novak, who teaches Theology there. We went there to see him, but he called in sick. Thing is…” He cut himself off, unable to go on. He couldn’t tell the guy the truth – it was too fucking crazy. Guy was gonna think him completely friggin’ crazy. Maybe he was gonna freak out again, and hurt Dean for real, this time. Dean was a strong guy – but Sam? Sam was _huge_ , a good three inches and something taller than him, and he had some real muscles, under that flannel button down. Dean liked to be alive, thank you very much.

“Thing is?” Sam encouraged him to go on.

“Thing is, the moment we said we wanted to talk to the guy, the girl from the office immediately said something along the lines of, ‘Oh, yeah, you must be Dean Moriarty, yeah, Castiel told me you’d come, here’s an envelope for you’,” Charlie completed for him. “And in that envelope? We found your address. We came here ‘cause we figured you might be able to clear some of this up for us. ‘Cause honestly? This thing is all sorts of creepy. I mean, who’s this Castiel Novak? Some kind of loony stalker? Or what? I mean… you know the guy, don’t you?”

Dean looked at Sam, and saw a hesitant look on his face, as if he didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Well… not exactly,” he finally said, glancing at Dean, studying him for a few moments before asking, “What if I told you, I got a story at least twice as crazy and long as yours?”

Dean blinked. Crazier than all of this shit? He was pretty sure that was a ton more crazy than he could ever handle. But still. He and Charlie had come so far… might as well hear what this guy had to say, right? What did they have to lose, after all?

He sighed deeply, regretting very much the moment he had decided to listen to Charlie, and come here. He should get back on a cab, be strong enough to deal with four more hours on a plane, and go get his friggin’ car back. Drive back to Lebanon, back to his old, safe, reassuring life. It would be the smart thing to do, that was for sure.

But when ever did Dean do the smart thing?

“…I’d say, go on and tell us – we’re all ears,” he said, leaning a little forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Charlie did the same beside him.

Sam watched them for a few moments and finally nodded.

“Okay – but I got the same exact rule as you do. No interrupting the story.”

Dean and Charlie nodded back. Sounded fair enough, if you asked Dean. The guy had not only listened to the whole story – he had fucking _believed_ them, too. So maybe Dean couldn’t promise he’d believe anything even crazier, but there was one thing he could do. And it was to actually listen carefully to all that this man had to say.

Sam let out a small sigh, nodding again as he stood, Dean’s eyes following him closely as he went to grab something that looked like a photo album. He pulled a photo out of it, but held it so that neither Dean nor Charlie could see it – Dean couldn’t have said if it was on purpose or not.

Sam walked back to his armchair and sat, keeping the photo in his lap, turned down in a way that made Dean think that, yeah, he was definitely doing it on purpose.

“What’s that?” Dean asked, frowning deeply at Sam, who just smiled a little to himself.

“You’re pretty curious, aren’t you?” he asked, an amused, almost fond sparkle in his eyes. Dean had no idea what to make of it. “Don’t worry. You’ll find out soon enough – I just need to tell you that story, first. Patience, Dean.”

Dean grumbled a little but nodded, gesturing for him to go on.

Sam settled on his armchair, letting out another small sigh.

“Like I said – it’s a very long story. But… I’ll try and make it as short as possible,” he promised, his eyes turning a little unfocused as he started to remember. “…I was born in… a very particular kind of family. Mom died when I was just six months old, and from that moment on, you know, my dad was pretty much obsessed – wanted his revenge, wanted to make sure… what had killed mom could never kill anyone else. My brother was just four, and… growing up he was pretty much a mom and a dad for me – don’t get me wrong, even though I spent most of my life being mad at my dad… I can see, now, he did his best. It wasn’t enough, and… the way he brought us up? That was no way to raise a couple of kids. But… he did what he could. Doesn’t make it better. But… you know. I guess I just want you to understand, he wasn’t some kind of monster.

“My brother and I, we grew up really close. But in the end, I couldn’t live like that, always on the road, any longer. I got into Stanford, I left. A few years later, my brother came back to look for me. Dad had disappeared into thin air, and he needed my help to find him. I refused to go with him, leave my new life… until the… exact same thing that had killed my mom twenty years before killed my girlfriend, too.”

Sam sighed, and Dean took that chance to pipe in, although he had promised he would not interrupt the guy. But curiosity was too strong to fight it.

“You keep saying the _thing_ that killed your mom – not a person, a thing. Why? How… how could your dad want revenge against a _thing_? I mean, if your mom and girlfriend were killed by… I dunno, a fire, it’s not as if your dad could take revenge on freaking _fire_ , right? I mean, he could kill whoever started the fire, if it wasn’t an accident.”

Sam looked at Dean strangely, his eyes studying him curiously.

“Why did you say a fire, of all things?”

Dean frowned at him. God, this guy was so _weird_.

“I dunno, man. It was just the first thing that came to mind –and you didn’t answer my question.”

Sam exhaled deeply, and he looked unsure for a few moments, as if he thought telling Dean the truth about it wasn’t the smartest idea. Dean just watched him sternly – and he was getting an answer right the fuck _now_ , no way he was gonna let this guy play this ‘mysterious’ crap. What the hell.

“I said _thing_ , because, while the fire – and yes, it was a fire – wasn’t accidental, it wasn’t a person, the one who started it.”

“Then what, your old man vowed revenge against an opossum?”

“No opossums involved. My mom and my girlfriend were both killed by a demon.”

Dean felt his mouth falling open, and he heard Charlie whispering a ‘What the…?’ under her breath. Yeah. What the, definitely.

“Dude. If you’re gonna try and sell me this utter crap and even expect me to buy it, cut it out. It’s not gonna work,” Dean muttered, frowning deeply at Sam. He felt stupid for having expected some real answers from this guy, and was supremely annoyed at Sam for pretending that he knew something shocking and super secret that was gonna clear everything up for Dean and Charlie.

Sam rolled his eyes in a way that reminded Dean of Charlie when she got into full annoying little sister mode, despite the fact this guy had to be twice Dean’s age.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna interrupt me until the very end?”

“Why, there’s even more of this pile of crap?”

“Dean,” Sam simply said, looking at him with what could only be described as a bitchface.

“Dean,” Charlie repeated quietly, her eyes fixed on Sam as she squeezed Dean’s arm. “I think you should let him finish.”

Oh, awesome. So Charlie was actually considering believing to all of this, now. Not only that, she wanted _Dean_ to consider that, too. Oh, screw it. He had thought he was going crazy, this morning when he had woken up, but now he could easily see that wasn’t the case. It was the rest of the world that was going crazy – he was completely sane, thank you very much.

He rolled his eyes, and he couldn’t _believe_ he’d have to stay there and listen to this crazy guy one second more.

“…yeah, whatever. Go on with your story. Let’s see how far you’re gonna take this – God, I can’t believe I was gonna take you seriously.”

Sam let out a long-suffering sigh, and Dean just very much wanted to punch his face, possibly break his nose. Condescending bastard.

“I can’t believe it – you haven’t changed one bit,” he mumbled.

Dean frowned, and he was just about to ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean, when Sam started to talk again, cutting him off.

“Anyway. As I was saying, the demon had killed my girlfriend, too. I didn’t exactly feel like going back to Stanford after that, you know, and I just… I wanted to get the son of a bitch. Just to… to make it really short – we found it, and our dad. It killed our dad, but we eventually managed to kill the bastard, too. Not until a whole year had passed, and a lot more crap, of course. With the demon dead, I decided to get back to Stanford, get my degree, and a normal life. I was lucky. I got a good job at a local firm, I met a wonderful girl, and now I have a wife, and a kid. And it’s just… what I wanted, you know? A normal, apple pie life with a white picket fence. But my brother?” Sam shook his head. “He liked what he did – he was the _best_ at hunting monsters. During the year after my dad’s death, before we managed to kill the demon, we met a hunter – Benny, and while I was a little… unsure about the guy at first, he was a good hunter, and a good friend. A perfect partner for my brother. I think he has settled down, now – he met a girl, too, sometime after Dean’s death.”

“Dean?” Charlie repeated, blinking as Dean perked up a little, his interest piqued again. “That’s your brother? Dean?”

Sam looked very much like a deer in headlights for a split second, and though he was quick to hide it, there was no denying that the look had been there. That he thought he had made a huge mistake. Dean narrowed his eyes a little. It was a weird coincidence, yes. But that was all it was – why did Sam think he had made such a big mistake mentioning it?

“Oh… uh… yeah. Dean. That’s… that was my brother,” Sam said, clearing his throat. “So… after I quit, Benny and Dean kept hunting together, when things got bad. Like… end of the world bad. Which meant, bigger players coming in. Angels.

“The angels, you know… they’re nothing like you would think. No fluffy wings, no halos, and they most certainly aren’t all good. Actually, from what I gathered from Dean, most of them are complete dicks.” Sam smiled a little, shaking his head in a way that clearly stated, only his brother could’ve thought of calling freaking _angels_ dicks. And he loved him for it. “He was right though, you know? The angels had decided the world would be better off being done, and so they were gonna pull Lucifer – yeah, the Devil himself – out of his Cage, and get the Apocalypse started. One of them though? He was different. He was the angel of Thursday, captain of the garrison assigned to watching the earth. He was… a weird guy. But good. He helped Dean by fighting his own brothers, helped stop the Apocalypse. Dean never… exactly told me, you know? But I knew the truth. He and Cas? They were ridiculously in love.”

“Cas?” Dean asked in a soft breath, images of last night’s dream coming back to him, making him blush a little – and God, he hoped Sam and Charlie hadn’t noticed it, though that wasn’t exactly likely, judging from the weird looks they were giving him.

Sam shrugged.

“It’s what Dean always used to call him.”

“Hang on,” Charlie murmured, looking from Dean to Sam, her eyes widening a little in realization – although, what she had realized, Dean couldn’t have said. “Cas? Like… Castiel? Do you mean-”

“Yes, Cas like Castiel. Like I said, Angel of Thursday – look it up,” Sam cut her off, shrugging slightly. “The angels… they weren’t happy when Dean and Cas stopped them from getting Lucifer out, as you can probably imagine. They went after them – and they were strong, and put up one hell of a fight, but… they never really stood a chance, you know? An angel cut off from Heaven and a human… how could they have a chance against a few dozen angels? Dean was killed, Cas was captured. I have no idea what happened to him, but nothing good, that's for sure. Never knew why they spared Benny’s life – but I suppose they thought being left alone, no family, his best friend in the world killed, was punishment enough. Not like he could try to go after them, anyway, right? And… I guess that’s it. Here we are, almost twenty-eight years after Dean’s death.”

Dean had to admit, it was a pretty nice story. Well-built, nice characters, nice twists.

Of course it would be madness to think of it as anything more than a stupid story, but still. Perhaps Sam should try to write a book.

And surely he didn’t think they had bought this thing, right? After all, if Charlie’s eyes were a little teary and a little wide… that didn’t mean she actually _believed_ this crap, right? Nah. Charlie was the smartest girl Dean knew. Still, a nice story. Very, very nice.

Dean, however, had come here to try and find out what all the weird shit that had happened to him meant, and he certainly hadn’t come for a stupid story.

Before he could say okay, thank you, and bye – and maybe go see a therapist, if you actually believe this is what happened to your brother – to Sam, Charlie interrupted.

!Almost twenty-eight years,” she croaked out, her voice on the edge of breaking. Why the hell was her voice breaking? “Dean just turned twenty-seven the other day.”

What? _What?_ What the _hell_ was Charlie saying now?

Of course, Dean wasn’t completely stupid. He had gotten the implication pretty well, thank you very much – a Dean dying almost twenty-eight years ago, another Dean being born nine months later. But surely, Charlie couldn’t possibly _believe_ that, could she? Come on. This was just crap. Either this guy was crazy or he and that Castiel Novak weirdo had some kind of plan to get something out of Dean. Probably money – maybe they had found out about his inheritance. He didn’t know what their plan was, but it was nothing good, that was for sure.

“Oh, _please_ – don’t tell me you believe this shit. I mean, seriously? Cas and Dean? Demons and angels? The _Apocalypse_? What, I’d be some… some dead guy’s reincarnation, now? Please,” Dean said, giving a look at Charlie. “You’re smarter than this.”

Charlie frowned a little, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I don’t know, Dean. Sam told us when his Dean died before we told him you were born exactly nine months later,” she pointed out quietly, looking unsure as she glanced at Sam.

“So what? They dug up some information about me – not that hard to find out when I was born, really.”

“And why would they do that? What for?”

“I dunno – money, maybe?” Dean said, giving her an incredulous look.

“And what about the dreams?” Charlie objected. “Dean, you didn’t even tell _me_ about those dreams until after you met that guy. I mean… they couldn’t have known, could they? They can’t have possibly set this all up without knowing that part. Would you have bothered travelling all the way to Lawrence, if Castiel had just been some random hot guy you’d seen for a split second? You know you wouldn’t have.”

Dean didn’t have an answer for that, if he was being completely honest. But still. It was… it was absolutely impossible. It just couldn’t possibly be. Dean wasn’t prepared to believe to that story, it was just too absurd. Him, the reincarnation of some guy who had s _topped the friggin’ Apocalypse?_ It couldn’t be. Not him.

He was just… just Dean. It was true that his parents had tried to make him into something entirely different - the fancy schools, all they had done to make sure he could someday land a seat in Congress, at the very least... a world leader, that's what they had attempted to make out of him. Attempted being the key word there. 'Failed' would also be a good word to use, there. Dean had never even finished college instead. So forgive him if he thought it would be a little unbelievable, that he would be some here who stopped the Apocalypse.

He glanced at Sam, and he saw that Sam’s expression was sad, as if he could read Dean’s thoughts like an open book, and knowing that Dean thought so little of himself saddened him terribly.

“You were always like that,” he murmured. “Always thinking you weren’t good enough. But you always were. Best hunter I’ve ever known, best brother I could ever ask for.”

Dean looked up at Sam – and there was such longing in his gaze, such… terrible sorrow. Dean didn’t think he could fake that. He was probably really convinced of every word he had said.

Then maybe the bad guy here was that Castiel dude? But no, that wasn’t exactly possible, either, was it? Castiel had to be about his age, meaning he wouldn’t have been alive to know most of the stuff he’d need to fool Sam. But then again, maybe all he had needed was just a quick research on Sam’s family history – deadbeat dad, dead mom, always travelling around… a dead brother. It was so painfully clear, that Sam would do anything, if he thought there was any chance to get his brother back… Castiel could’ve easily used that fact.

“How would you know I’m him? I mean, I get it. You want your brother back – I don’t have a brother, but… I mean. If had one and he died, I’d be crushed, too. But… reincarnation? Angels and demons? Was it Castiel Novak, to convince you this is the truth, that it’s me? That he was gonna give me back to you? And what for?” Dean asked, desperate for this guy to snap out of his delusions, and actually see the truth for what it was.

Dean wondered what would happen, if they went to the police, told them about Castiel Novak. Would Sam’s clearly made-up story be enough to stop the guy, make sure he never exploited someone else’s sorrow again? He supposed it was worth a try – though he doubted if Sam would actually agree to do that.

“Dean, it wasn’t Cas that convinced me, it was you. He never talked about getting you back, or anything like that,” Sam said, gently but resolutely. “I’ve met him just twice in my life – when you introduced him to me something like thirty years ago, and yesterday. He never asked anything from me. He only told me it was likely that I’d get a visit from an old acquaintance. To be honest, I thought he was trying to warn me against some demon, or something. But… I never expected it to be… you.”

Dean sighed deeply. It really seemed like the guy didn’t want to hear the truth.

“And how is it that you’re so friggin’ sure I’m who you say I am?”

Sam smiled a little, glancing down at the photo he was holding in his hands and sighed softly before holding it out for Dean to take.

“Here. Take a look at this.”

Dean stared at the photo in Sam’s hand, not really sure he wanted to actually see it, afraid that it would tell him he truly had been some kind of uncelebrated hero fighting all sort of monsters in his past life. Afraid that it wouldn’t.

Charlie finally took it in his place, glancing at it, a shocked expression making its way onto her face.

“Dean…” she breathed, looking up at him.

Dean took a deep breath, reaching over to squeeze Charlie’s hand, trying to draw some courage from her as he leaned closer and took a peek at the photo.

The silence in the house was deafening as he stared down at the picture, an old snapshot of a much younger Sam leaning against the most beautiful car Dean had ever seen, with a present-day Castiel Novak in a suit and trench coat, frowning slightly, his head turned to the side curiously as he watched... Dean. Dean himself, there was no doubt about it – and he had an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, looking at Cas fondly as the Dean in the picture laughed at something Cas had said – or so it seemed. Sam was sitting against the car, his arms crossed, a small smile on his lips as he watched the two of them.

A photo of him and Castiel Novak with a much, much younger Sam Winchester.

And he might not know a lot about the topic, but it really didn’t seem fake. Plus, he was absolutely fucking sure that a) that was most definitely his face and his hair, and his body, no tricks, b) he didn’t have a photo like that one that Castiel Novak could get his hands on to create a fake with and c) he didn’t own a jacket like that one. …and d) he had never, ever looked at someone the way the Dean in the photo looked at Castiel.

Dean looked up, feeling numb as he watched Sam, his heart thumping furiously in his chest, blood rushing through his ears. “What does this mean?” he asked as he felt Charlie putting an arm around his shoulders, unable to make sense of all of this, very much wanting to go back to this morning, when his life was easy, and much less confusing.

Sam’s lip quivered, and he let out a deep, shaky breath as he watched Dean. “It means you’re my brother,” he murmured, his voice on the edge of breaking as Dean looked up, fear and confusion shining in his eyes.

“But… how… how is that even possible…?” Dean stuttered, feeling as if his entire world had just been turned upside down. Which, to be fair, it kind of had.

Sam was his brother. His _brother_. He had a little brother.

A little brother who was freakishly tall, muscular, and twice his age, but still, his little brother.

From a secluded corner of his mind, a word made its way towards Dean’s mouth, rolling on his tongue without Dean giving it permission to do so, before it escaped his lips.

“…Sammy?”

Dean was pretty sure he’d gladly fly on a plane for four whole hours every day, if it meant he could make Sam’s face break into a smile like the one he gave Dean at that, but he hardly had time to enjoy the fact that he had managed to make his brother, his little brother, smile, because a sharp pain in his head made him groan. He held his head in his hands and squeezed his eyes shut as consciousness slipped away from him – the worried cries of ‘Dean!’ coming from Charlie and Sam were the very last thing he was aware of before everything went silent and black.

 **~** ❦ **~**

 _Dean can easily tell that Cas was worried about the idea of meeting Sam – Dean is pretty fucking terrified himself, as much as he’s tried to hide it from Cas, if he’s being completely honest. It’s just, Sam’s his little brother, and Cas is… well,_ Cas _. He wants Cas and Sam to like each other. He might not be ready to admit to anyone else the truth about his feelings for Cas, or that whatever there is between them isn’t just a nice friendship, but he’s man enough to admit it to himself. Although, well, that wasn’t all easy, either, since Dad didn’t bring him up to be alright with liking_ men _, and Dean’s pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of any of this. It makes his heart ache a little, when he lets himself think about it._

_Thing is, Dean is pretty sure Benny suspects something – and if Benny knows about him and Cas, well… what are the odds of Sam not catching onto that as well? The kid has known Dean his whole life, knows him better than anyone else. And he’s freakishly smart, too. Dean knows it’s probably stupid, for him to be so desperate for Sam’s approval of Cas, but he wants two of the most important people in his life to like each other. So sue him._

_Benny does nothing but snicker at him and Cas the whole way to Sam’s place, and Dean glares at him through the rear view mirror while Cas stares ahead nervously._ _Dean has no idea how he ever thought of Cas as cold or emotionless, when it’s so painfully clear he is anything but._

_Turns out, he and Cas are idiots to be nervous about meeting Sam. The moment they arrive, the giant of a man his little brother is grins, looking a little like an excited puppy, and he’s so clearly, genuinely pleased to meet Cas that Dean feels the knot in his stomach completely disappear. As they walk into Sam’s apartment, Benny immediately calls dibs on the guest room, so Dean and Cas will be forced to share the sofa bed in the living room, earning a glare from Dean. Sam seems to be having a hard time suppressing a knowing smile, which makes Dean think he already knows, somehow. Are his feelings for Cas so obvious Sam figured them out just from hearing Dean talk about him on the phone? Apparently, the answer’s yes._

_It’s on the third and last night they spend at Sam’s that Dean mans up and kisses Cas for the first time._

_He and Cas are lying on their sides into the sofa bed, facing each other, not saying a word._ _The snapshot Benny took earlier, with him laughing at something Cas said, Sam leaning against the Impala and grinning at them, is sitting on the coffee table Dean’s using as a nightstand, and Dean never knew he looks at Cas like that._ _He’s pretty sure he’s never looked at anyone else that way his entire life, and it’s no wonder Sam and Benny know._

_He’s just about to drift off to sleep, only slightly uncomfortable with the fact Cas is probably going to stay in that exact position all night, just watching him. He’s pretty much resigned himself to the fact that Cas is gonna do it whether Dean likes it or not, and probably does it more often than he knows. What is a dude supposed to do all night, when he’s an angel, and can’t sleep, after all?_

_Dean can’t help staring at Cas’ eyes, and his lips, and before his brain can really process what he’s doing, he’s leaning in and kissing Cas softly on the lips – and Cas, Cas immediately returns that kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean and pulling him closer, making_ _Dean’_ _s_ _heart flutter happily in his chest._

_He sleeps cuddled up to Cas that night, his head nestled into the hollow of Cas’ neck, and he’s never felt happier in his entire life._

**~** ❦ **~**

Dean opened his eyes to find himself in a comfortable bed in a room he was pretty sure he’d never seen in life, with no memory of ever falling asleep. He blinked sleepily at the ceiling, sitting up and looking around, his eyes landing on a woman standing in the doorway. She had to be in her late forties, with curly dark hair, dark eyes and, while no longer very young, still beautiful, even with very little make up on.

“Hey,” she greeted, giving him a nod as she approached Dean, her bright brown eyes studying him.

“Hey,” Dean replied, his voice hoarse as he looked up at her, confused. “Where am I?”

“Sam’s house. You’ve been out for a few hours, so it’s only normal, if you’re feeling a little confused. Sam and Charlie have been worried.”

“Oh,” he murmured, a few memories coming back to him – meeting Sam, his absurd story, and then the photo. Then… nothing. He supposed he must’ve passed out immediately after seeing the photo. “Yeah, I remember. I came here, talked to Sam.”

“And then you fainted,” the woman completed for him, nodding a little before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m Amelia. Sam’s wife.”

“Oh!” Dean breathed, his eyes widening a little – and wow, this was awkward. How was he supposed to introduce himself? Hi, I’m Sam’s dead brother who has been reincarnated or some other weird shit? That was no way to meet a sister-in-law. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, unsure what to say. “I’m… Dean,” he finally said, not adding anything else.

Amelia smiled a little, as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking about.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, nodding. “And I know you’re his brother. I know the whole story, and probably more details than you do right now. So don’t worry.”

Dean nodded, and it was a relief that he didn’t have to give any explanation, because his head kinda hurt, and he probably wouldn’t have been able to find anything smart to say.

“So what? You used to hunt monsters, too?” he asked, to which Amelia laughed.

“No. Not a hunter. Just a veterinarian who used to work in a clinic with a poltergeist problem, just out of town. Sam was here, and you, Benny and Cas were practically across the country, taking care of something else. So you called Sam and asked him to take care of it. He didn’t hunt anymore, but he agreed to do it as a favor to you. It’s how we met.”

Dean smiled a little to himself, shifting a little and leaning back against the headboard.

“So what? I accidentally played matchmaker?” Dean asked, and yeah, he liked this woman. He was pretty sure he would’ve patted Sam’s back proudly, back in his past life, if he had come home with a chick like this one. “Did we get along? I mean, back in the day?”

Amelia frowned a little at that – and aw, what was that? They didn’t get along? Or worse, had he been a douche to her? Why, though? She seemed nice.

“We… never met, Dean,” she said, giving him a small, sad smile. “I’m not even sure Sam ever told you about me. You… died a couple of days after our first date.”

“…oh,” Dean murmured, looking down, his heart twisting painfully at the thought he had never known about such an important part of Sam’s life.

Amelia gave him a small, sad smile and reached over to pat his shoulder gently.

“Good news is, we have time to make up for lost time now,” she pointed out. “I came here to see if I could wake you up – Sam’s making pancakes. Everyone’s downstairs. Robbie can’t wait to get to know you.”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Robbie?”

“Yeah. Sam didn’t mention we have a son?” Amelia asked,. “He’s seventeen, but… he doesn’t know anything about what Sam used to do. Sam and I… we think it’s better this way. At least for the time being. But since you look just like his uncle Dean’s long-lost twin brother who mysteriously stopped aging at twenty-seven, we told him you’re his son. We always told him Dean was shot during a robbery – stick to that story. We told him your mom and Dean had been together for a few months, and she decided to keep you after he died, and name you after him. Your mom didn’t really tell you about your dad until very recently, so that’s why we never met before. We’ve been very vague on details, so if he asks you something, you can just make up something. If that’s okay.”

Dean nodded, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Yeah. Sure. It’s a good story, I’ll just stick to that,” he promised, giving Amelia a small smile.

She nodded back and stood.

“Well, I’m going downstairs – you get ready and come downstairs, okay?”

“Awesome. And… thanks,” Dean murmured softly earning one last smile from Amelia before she disappeared through the door.

Dean sighed a little. God, this was crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy. He had come here to understand what the deal with that weird Castiel Novak guy was. Not to be suddenly dragged in a world where monsters and demons existed – where angels were kind of dicks, and some poor bastard like him could be killed off because he had dared to stop the fucking Apocalypse.

He tried to push those thoughts away, to focus on what he had to do now. Get ready, go downstairs, and meet his friggin’ _nephew_ , who thought he was actually his cousin. Oh, God.

He stood, sighing again, and made his way to the bathroom before getting changed and joining the others downstairs.

Breakfast with Charlie, Sam, Amelia and Robbie was nice – Sam was very clearly absolutely _thrilled_ to have Dean there, and Amelia was nothing but welcoming. Robbie looked very much like his mom, but he had inherited his dad’s puppy-like enthusiasm and his dimples when he smiled. He was an awesome kid, really, fun, and clearly smart – wanted to get into Stanford like Sam, to study journalism. Dean loved every second of talking to the kid and he felt like he could really get used to calling these people family.

After breakfast, Dean called his boss to let him know that, yeah, he was still sick – _cough_ – but he would most likely get back to work the following day. Truth was, he wasn’t sure that he would. Charlie had been right, even if Dean was only just starting to really comprehend _how very_ right she had been. The coffee shop… it wasn’t what Dean wanted from his life. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that he wanted to do, but… he knew he wanted these people to be an important part of his life. And he wanted Cas – God help him, he knew it was completely crazy, but he wanted to get to Castiel Novak’s place right the fuck _now_ and see if there was a chance, any chance they could pick up where they had left off, a lifetime ago.

Point was, there was so, so much that was still unclear. Castiel had led him here, to Sam, to find out who he really was, that much was clear. But who was Castiel Novak, really? What was he? Still an angel? Had he recently escaped Heaven, and come to look for Dean? If that was the case, why get the fake surname, and cover-up job, and everything? Why not simply use his angel mojo to get Dean his memories back? So… maybe he didn’t have his mojo anymore, no proof that Cas was who he said he was? And where did Dean’s dreams come from? Why had they started just a few weeks ago, if the memories had been there, in some corner of his mind, all along? Dean had no idea, but… he knew he had to find Cas to find out, as nice as being here with these people was.

Amelia was doing the dishes as Charlie and Robbie discussed which was the best Harry Potter book, and Dean, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, wandered around looking for Sam. Dean finally found him in the garage, next to a car protected by a cover that had once been very nice.

“Hey,” he said, giving Sam a small smile. “You got a nice family.”

Sam smiled too, nodding.

“Yeah. I was lucky.”

Dean hesitated for a few moments, finally sighing softly.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. Wish I could’ve been there. Wish things could’ve been different.”

Sam shook his head, his smile turning a little sad.

“It wasn’t your fault. Dean… you saved the world. And you’re here now. And I’m _finally_ not your little brother anymore.”

Dean snorted.

“Yeah, you wish. Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Both laughed a little, Dean shaking his head.

“I don’t even know why I said that – God… this is all so confusing. I keep… keep remembering new stuff. But it’s so fucking confusing, you got no idea. I just...” he sighed, frowning a little.

“You don’t have to push yourself too much, Dean,” Sam said, shrugging slightly. “Just take your time. Everything’s gonna be just fine. Like I said. You’re here, now.”

Dean felt a huge lump in his throat as he nodded, a wave of fondness towards Sam washing over him as Dean looked at him. He hesitated a few seconds, but he finally threw his arms around his not-so-little brother, pulling Sam in a tight hug.

Sam leaned into the hug, and Dean felt himself grinning, and held him tightly for a few seconds, finally patting his back and pulling away.

Sam let out a small, happy sigh and smiled at Dean again.

“Man, I’m so glad you’re back.”

Dean laughed at that.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said, making Sam chuckle a little, too.

“Meaning you’ll come visit us every once in a while?” he asked, and Dean could tell he had tried to keep that hopeful note out of his voice, even though he had failed.

“Yeah. All the time. I swear, I’ll make sure you’re sick and tired of seeing my face.”

Sam nodded, almost to himself, before looking at Dean again.

“You should go find Cas,” he finally said, watching Dean. He reached into his pocket, handing him a white envelope very much like the first one, but with no name on it. “He said someone would come to look for this. I guess he was talking about you.”

Dean took the envelope, his heart skipping a bit at the mere mention of Cas. God, this was getting crazier and crazier by the second.

“Thanks,” he murmured, glancing down at the envelope for a second before looking up at Sam again, who nodded.

“You should also take this,” Sam said, reaching for something under the collar of his flannel shirt, revealing an amulet, which he took off, and held out for Dean. “It’s yours.”

Dean looked at it for a few moments, more memories coming back to him, and he finally reached out for it, immediately putting it around his neck, stroking the amulet gently.

“Thanks Sammy. I’ll take good care of it,” he murmured, comforted by the familiar weight of the amulet around his neck, not knowing how he had ever managed to be without it.

Sam smiled widely.

“Also…” he said, walking towards a key hook next to the door and grabbing a key. “I know how much you hate flying – can’t let you do that.”

“Dude,” Dean said, taking a step back and shaking his head. “I can’t take your car.”

Sam scoffed.

“Please, I’m not offering you my car – I need that one to go to work, plus, it’s brand new,” he said, brushing past Dean, a small smile still on his lips. “I’m offering you _your_ car.”

Before Dean could ask him what the hell he meant, Sam reached forward and grabbed the cover, pulling it off the car.

Dean’s eyes widened as the beautiful Impala from the photo and his dream was revealed.

“I just took care of her for you. Washed her, made sure she still worked just fine,” Sam said, shrugging a little. “I mean, I’m not the mechanic you are, but I made sure she was okay – I knew it was what you’d want.”

Dean nodded, his eyes still wide as he brushed his hand over the car’s hood, whispering, “My Baby,” under his breath. Sam chuckled softly at that.

He turned around, and if his eyes were a little teary as he pulled Sam in another hug, well… he wasn’t gonna spread that around.

 **~** ❦ **~**

Dean hugged his newfound family goodbye, with the promise that he would be back as soon as humanly possible, and took off with Charlie by his side. Not to brag, but she was really fucking impressed with the new car.

The journey was long, and pretty much uneventful. Every once in a while, a new memory would come to Dean, and he would share it with Charlie, who was more than happy to listen to anything he had to say.

It gave Dean a pretty fucking horrible headache, all this remembering new stuff, and it was... confusing to say the least, to have two lives to remember now. But all in all... the new life just seemed to... to _click_. As if those memories had always been there, waiting for him to realize it. To acknowledge they were there, and they were real.

That night, they checked into a random motel – it took ten whole fucking minutes to convince the damn receptionist that no, they really didn’t want or need a King Size Bed, which brought back a scarily long series of absolutely awful memories featuring him and Sam being mistaken for a gay couple. _Ew_.

When he and Charlie arrived in their room, they were both pretty tired. They both just collapsed onto their beds, and were asleep in moments, so it wasn’t until the next morning that they finally got a chance to open the envelope.

“I can’t believe you haven’t mentioned Sam gave you another envelope,” Charlie protested as Dean started the engine, pulling out of the motel parking lot and back on the street.

“Look, it’s not like I’ve been _hiding_ it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve just had a _lot_ on my mind lately, okay?”

“You’re gonna be my handmaiden for a _year_ for this,” Charlie said, giving Dean a half-hearted glare.

“Dude, I’m _always_ your handmaiden, as friggin’ embarrassing as that is – now open the envelope, and tell me where I gotta go next.”

“Exactly where we've been driving to so far. Lebanon, Kansas, possibly in front of my workplace before my boss busts my ass?”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, but smiled a little to himself.

“Alright, your Highness. Any chance you're also gonna tell me where I'll have to go after that, then?”

Charlie smirked to herself, but nodded, promptly ripping the envelope open. Dean waited, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as he heard her pulling out whatever she found in there.

“So, let’s see… another feather… _obviously_ … and the mystery address is…” Charlie trailed off, a thick silence falling on the car.

“Uh… Charlie?” Dean asked after a few moments, glancing at her, vaguely registering that she was staring at the envelope with a very, very shocked expression. “You alright?”

“Dean,” she breathed, as if she couldn’t believe what was about to say.

“What?” Dean asked, looking between her and the road. “ _What_?”

 **~** ❦ **~**

By the time he and Charlie got back to Lebanon, Dean was pretty sure he had broken every last traffic law he could break, Charlie staring at the road in front of her with a sort of deer in headlights expression, all thoughts of going to work today forgotten. Dean was pretty sure she would come up with an excuse, no problem. Literally no way he could think about that right now.

When they got to the right place, Dean all but ran out of the car, rushing to the front door, Charlie behind him calling his name. Walking in, he easily spotted the person he was looking for. Dean ran to him and grabbed the lapels of his jacket, pressing him against the wall. “ _You_ ,” he growled.

“Dean, _calm down_ ,” Charlie said, rushing towards him and grabbing his arm, but Dean refused to listen to her, keeping his eyes fixed on the man in front of him.

“So what? You buy the place where I work, make me go nuts for _months_ , and now _this_?” he snarled in his boss’ face, unable to believe this. That everything that had happened had brought him back here. “How did you do this – where’s _Cas_?”

“Dean – come on, for all we know, maybe we aren’t here for him. Maybe Cas is just gonna come here later, maybe… maybe he doesn’t know anything about all of this,” Charlie tried to make him reason, but Dean knew he was right. He knew it from the way the man in front of him had remained completely calm when Dean had pressed him against the wall, and the way a slow smirk was spreading on his face.

“Actually, darling,” he said, looking straight into Dean’s eyes. “Our lovely Cassy isn’t coming here anytime soon.”

Before Dean could say a thing – or punch him in the fucking face, actually – his boss gave him a light push, or what would _seem_ like a light push to someone watching from the outside. It sent Dean stumbling back a few feet – and almost falling on his ass - as Charlie backed away from the man. Or creature, Dean supposed, since there was no way this… this _thing_ could be human.

“I should’ve known it,” Dean growled, clenching his fists, more than ready to take on the bastard, even though without a weapon. There was no way he would survive this fight – but hopefully, he could buy some time for Charlie. Make sure she could run. “What freak would name his kid _Balthazar_? You gotta be some sort of demon, or shit like that. And you – you’re doing this to get to Cas, aren’t you? Gave me those dreams and made me see him here so I would find him for you.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, adjusting his clothes and moving towards the nearest table, an utterly bored expression on his face. “You know, out of all the ignorant mud monkeys I’ve met in my life, you’re the absolute worse,” he said, his stupid British accent and air of superiority instantly getting on Dean’s nerves.

Charlie was just looking between the two of them, eyes wide and Dean subtly tried to catch her gaze, silently trying to tell her to get the hell out of there.

Balthazar rolled his eyes again.

“Oh, please. Seriously? If this was about me finding and hurting little Cassy, why would I need you? I’m the one who gave you the address of his workplace. Do you _really_ think he’d still be alive, if I wanted to kill him?” he said, snorting a little and shaking his head. “Calm down. Both of you. The chances of me hurting him are even lower than the chances of me _ever_ growing to like you, Winchester.”

“Yeah, well. You’ll understand if I can’t trust a demon’s word on that, right?” Dean said, frowning deeply at Balthazar, not making any move towards him.

“A demon? Please, monkey. Really?” Balthazar said, a glass full of what seemed to be whiskey appearing in his hand. “If you want to be with our little Cassy, you may want to find out a little bit more about the lore on angels. At the very least realize when you’ve got one right in front of you.”

“So… you’re an angel,” Charlie said, taking a hesitant step towards Balthazar, who simply took a sip from his glass.

“Congratulations, darling. You got it. Yes.”

Dean snorted.

“Now I know why I told Sam all angels were dicks.”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow at Dean, taking another sip.

“Of course – my bad, such a dick for not groveling at your feet and worshipping you while I help you find your boyfriend.”

“Well, of _course_ there’s gotta be something for you in it,” Dean said, narrowing his eyes at Balthazar. “Or are you trying to tell me you’re doing it out of the goodness of your heart, even though this is sure to piss off the other angels?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Balthazar let out a long-suffering sigh, swallowing the rest of his drink, more whiskey immediately appearing in his glass.

“Dean has a point,” Charlie said quietly, sitting down in front of Balthazar, studying him. “I mean. You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t like him. Why do this for him, if there’s nothing for you in it?”

Balthazar turned to look at Charlie, remaining silent for a few moments.

“You see,” he finally said. “The mistake you’re making here is immediately assuming I would be doing this for _him_. But my interest in his happiness is completely non-existent. However… my interest in Cas’ happiness is not.”

Charlie blinked a little, her eyes widening in surprise while Dean snorted.

“And you expect me to buy that one of the utter _jerks_ who wanted to end the world, who _killed_ me and did God knows what to Cas is now oh-so-impatient to help him?” he said, giving Balthazar a look of pure disgust.

Balthazar’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the glass tightening so much that it broke, whiskey pouring all over him while small shards of glass flew everywhere.

He frowned, looking down at himself and cleaning up all the mess with one single gesture before looking up at Dean again.

“Now listen to me, you little, prejudiced cockroach,” he said, his eyes blazing in anger, even though his voice sounded completely calm. “Yes. The higher ranks of Heaven wanted the Apocalypse. No, even though brainwashing is basically how Heaven works, not all angels are mindless robots who think the Apocalypse is oh-so-wonderful. Yes, angels killed you. No, it wasn’t me. Yes, angels wanted to torture and kill Cassy and ultimately separate the two of you forever. No, they obviously didn’t succeed. Care to try and guess why?”

“What, because of _you_?” Dean sneered.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Balthazar said dryly. “If it wasn’t for me, your soul would be in Heaven, or in Hell. If it wasn’t for me, Cassy would’ve been tortured and possibly killed, and he’d be lost forever to you. I made sure your precious soul stayed here on Earth, and I ripped Cassy’s Grace out, so he could fall and be reborn as a human.”

“You did _what_?”

“I did the only thing I could do to save his life,” Balthazar snapped, his jaw clenching as he looked at Dean. “Do you think this is a game, Winchester? Do you see me having fun? It was sheer luck that I even managed to do that much and it cost me _everything_. I was captured and tortured for _years_ in Heaven before they decided to reprogram me and give me another chance. Another few years before I managed to fight their reprogramming and the occasion presented itself to fake my own death. Another couple of years keeping a low profile before I could look for you and Cassy. So stop treating me like an enemy, because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m on your side, you bastard.”

Dean didn’t look convinced – not at all, but Balthazar’s rant seemed to calm him down a little, and he didn’t say another word about him _stealing_ Castiel’s Grace – though yes, that was still how he saw it.

“You’re an angel. I mean… that’s gotta come with kinda awesome powers,” Charlie quietly peeped in. “Why didn’t you just… I don’t know, use your mojo on Dean and made him remember?”

“Because being cut off from Heaven completely has its consequences,” Balthazar said, sighing a little. “Getting all of his memories, or all of Castiel’s memories from their past lives back is beyond my powers. All I could do was… give Dean a little push.”

Charlie nodded a little, while Dean scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What about Castiel’s… Grace?” she asked again, watching as a small smile immediately spread through Balthazar’s face.

“Oh, that’s a good question,” he said, reaching up to touch the leather cord around his neck, disappearing into the front of his v-neck shirt. “This beauty was very, very hard to find. But it was worth it.”

Balthazar tugged on the leather cord, pulling it out of his shirt to reveal what seemed to be a crystal vial, a dim light coming from it.

“Hang on – _you_ son of a bitch had Cas’ Grace, all this time?” Dean asked, blinking at him.

“If you would be so gracious to actually _listen_ while I talk you’d know that no, I didn’t,” Balthazar said, rolling his eyes at Dean. “Like I said. It was hard to find. Implying I had to look for it – for God’s sake, you moron, do me a favor and actually use that small little brain of yours.”

“Forgive me if I was focusing on the fact _you have Cas’ Grace_!” Dean protested.

Balthazar simply rolled his eyes again and took off the vial from around his neck, looking down at it with a small, fond smile, his thumb brushing over it for a moment before setting it on the table with a small sigh.

“Not anymore, mud monkey. This is all yours, now.”

…and okay. That _did_ surprise Dean a little. And in a good way, for once.

“…what?”

“Your heard me, Dean. All yours,” Balthazar repeated. “You’re gonna need it, if you want your precious Cas to get his memories back. Because right now? He’s just as ignorant about his past as an angel as you were a couple of days ago. But this? This is a part of him. Show it to him. Let him hold it, feel its power. It should help him. Just don’t open it, and definitely not in front of Cassy. Was it ever to get into Cassy’s body, the Grace would turn him back into an angel, and make his human body explode. That’s not something you want.”

Dean hesitated for a few moments, finally walking closer to the table where Balthazar and Charlie were sitting, and grabbed the vial. Giving Balthazar a nod, Dean noticed, but didn’t comment on the longing gaze Balthazar gave it as Dean put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, still weary of Balthazar, but more willing to accept he might actually be on their side, now.

Balthazar gave Dean a small nod, taking yet another white envelope from his inside pocket and sliding it towards Dean, who took it.

“There’s Cassy’s address in here. The real thing. Not an illusion created by me, like the one you saw here, nor me posing as him to trick your less annoying brother into helping me getting your memories back. Also not me posing as a secretary at Cassy’s workplace.”

“That was _you_?” Charlie asked, her eyes going wide.

Balthazar smirked.

“I know. I’m a _shockingly_ sexy lady,” he said. Charlie huffed out a laugh at that as Dean rolled his eyes.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“Well? What are you still doing here? You have your address, you have his Grace. Go. Just… tell him I say hi.”

Dean watched Balthazar for a few moments, finally nodding.

“I will. Thanks. …Charlie, you need…?”

“I can find my way home alone. Go get your man. _Go._ ”

Dean grinned and nodded, rushing towards the front door and getting out, hopping on the car before taking off at full speed, impatient to get to Castiel’s place.

Back in the coffee shop, Charlie was staring at Balthazar, who was once more sipping on a newly-intact glass of whiskey, watching Dean go before turning to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “I just know that look.”

Balthazar barely bothered to give her another look before turning his attention back to his whiskey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The look of someone who’s watching the love of their life walking away forever. I know that look.”

Balthazar snorted.

“If you think that idiotic friend of yours is the love of my life, you’re obviously crazy.”

Charlie made a face at him.

“I’m not talking about _Dean_.”

Balthazar was silent for a few moments, and in the end, he simply downed the remains of his whiskey, immediately refilling the glass again.

“Is this conversation over yet? Perfect.”

“Look,” Charlie murmured, sighing a little. “I’m possibly the worst person _ever_ to give advice over this…”

“Lovely. Then don’t.”

“ _But_. I’ve been there before. And the fact you just… let him go? Pushed Dean into his arms? Means you care enough to put his happiness before yours. And I know this is possibly the last thing you want to hear right now, but…”

“But _what_?” Balthazar sneered, shaking his head and looking down. “But I’ll find someone else? But I’ll be happy, too? But everything’s going to take a twist for the better in my life the moment I least expect it? What absurd cliché are you about to lay on me?”

Charlie just sighed. She thought of Gilda, the emptiness she had left in Charlie’s heart when she had left. The way she had thought there was no way she could ever find someone else, so she might as well stop trying altogether.

But then… then she thought of Bela, the lingering kiss she had pressed to Bela’s lips when she was about to leave with Dean. Her number, still safe and sound in the front pocket of Charlie’s jeans. She smiled a little.

“Just… it gets better, I suppose.”

Balthazar let out a small huff, rolling his eyes.

“Congratulations. Among all the hideous clichés you could’ve chosen, you picked the most idiotic of them all,” he scoffed, glancing briefly at her before making a glass of whiskey appear in front of her, too.

Charlie frowned a little, looking up at him – and she was just about to ask something, when he cut her off.

“Bothering an angel who’s trying to get drunk might very well be the last thing you do. Just drink, and be quiet.”

Charlie smiled slightly, and took a sip.

 **~** ❦ **~**

By the time Dean got in front of Cas’ house, he was pretty sure he was about to die of nervousness. His heart was thumping furiously in his chest, his stomach clenching as he stepped out of the car. Slowly walking towards the front door, he hesitated just a few seconds before knocking.

A few moments later the door opened, Dean’s breath hitched a little when he saw Castiel. He was so, so beautiful. Dean had no idea how he had lived without him, all his life.

“Cas,” he murmured quietly, his heart hammering in his chest as Castiel frowned a little, tilting his head to the side, looking confused.

“Do I know you?”

And Dean knew, he knew he couldn’t rememeber – Balthazar had told him that much. But it still hurt his heart a little, to see Cas looking at him as if he was just some regular stranger – and a slightly creepy one at that.

“Uh… no. Sorry. You’re right. I… I was just hoping…” Dean said quietly, shaking his head and giving Castiel a smile. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I actually just came to give you this.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out the vial with the Grace, watching Castiel’s eyes widen a little at the sight.

“What… what is that?” he asked, frowning and looking at the vial for a few moments, finally holding out a hand. “May I?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Dean said, handing the vial to Castiel, who promptly took it, frowning deeper when he felt it in his hands.

“Where did you find this?”

“Long story,” Dean simply said, nervously watching Castiel for any reaction. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel said quietly, not tearing his eyes away from the light in the vial. “I just… it feels like…” He shook his head, looking back up at Dean, giving him a small, polite smile. “I’m sorry. This is crazy. Why are you here again? You know my name, so I’m guessing someone’s sending you?”

Dean felt his heart shattering in a million pieces at that, and he had no idea what to say. This was supposed to make Cas remember. Things weren’t supposed to go like this.

“I-I…”

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked, frowning a little. “Would you like to come inside for a coffee, or something?”

Dean watched him for a few moments, but nothing happened. Nothing magically brought Castiel’s memories back. It was hopeless.

“Nah,” he finally said, shaking his head. “I… should be on my way.”

“Oh,” Castiel murmured, looking just a little disappointed – although Dean didn’t delude himself into thinking it actually meant anything. “Of course. You’ll probably want this back.” He held his hand out, his palm open, the vial on it.

Dean smiled sadly, shaking his head again.

“No. No, that’s… that’s yours,” he said, gently taking Castiel’s hand, feeling him stiffen a little as Dean closed Cas’ palm over the vial. “Bye Cas,” he added in a murmur before letting go of his hand.

He turned around, desperately trying to hold back the tears as he climbed down the stairs of the porch.

“Wait!” Castiel called and Dean promptly turned towards him again, notquite daring to hope, because for all he knew, Castiel could just want to thank him again, or insist on that coffee, or…

“Yeah?”

Castiel frowned, taking a step closer to Dean, clutching the vial to his face.

“I think I do know you,” he said, studying Dean’s face as if it was a beautifully complicated puzzle. “ _Why_ do I know you?”

Dean just stared at him, eyes wide, completely speechless as Castiel reached up to rest his free hand on the side of Dean’s face, those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes suddenly lighting up.

“Dean?”

And that was all, all Dean needed.

A wide grin spread on his face, and he moved forward, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist as he pulled him into a kiss. Castiel let out a small, startled sound and Dean felt him smiling against his lips as Cas wrapped his arms around his neck, melting into the kiss.

 **~** ❦ **~**

They spent the next two days pretty much always in bed.

They took their time learning each other’s bodies again, catching each other up about their respective lives.

Dean thought it unbelievably funny, that Castiel was apparently a math geek in this lifetime, but after the fifth joke at his expense, Castiel mentioned that Dean was the last person who could make fun of anyone, what with him serving as a handmaiden for the Queen of Moondoor and all. That made Dean shut his mouth and sulk for a good ten minutes while Castiel laughed. Dean regretted telling him about Moondoor and the handmaiden thing, he really did.

Dean told Castiel the whole story about how he had remembered his past, and found Sam, found _him_. The moment he pronounced Balthazar’s name, Castiel started to ask about a million questions about him, and his face lit up in a way that made Dean promptly decide whatever they were gonna do, a trip to Lebanon was definitely due.

They talked about their future a little, although they didn’t exactly made definite plans, yet.

Dean pointed out that, if he wanted, Castiel could maybe go back to being an angel, but Castiel wasn’t particularly interested. He liked his life as a human, he liked having a body all of his own, and the last thing he wanted was to risk all that, especially now that he had just found Dean again. They would keep the vial, of course, just in case, but ultimately, Castiel didn’t need that to be happy – all he really needed was Dean.

Those words earned Castiel a particularly enthusiastic blowjob from Dean.

Another thing they needed to decide, was whether they wanted for Cas to keep his job at University of Kansas, and for Dean to get himself another, better job here in Lawrence, or if they wanted to just take off into the sunset, saving people, hunting things. Get back to the old life.

And they had yet to decide what to do with Dean’s money, too.

Dean had thought a lot about that money, in the last few days. And the truth was… Charlie had been right. Maybe he hadn’t managed to make his parents proud the way he had always wanted to, but maybe… maybe _they_ had been the ones who truly let him down. And maybe they had never changed the will because they thought they had all the time in the world to do it, but maybe they never did it because… despite everything, they still loved him. Maybe they had always wanted to fix things between them, and they had never gotten around to do it. And either way… the money was his, now. No point just letting it sit in his savings account, useless.

He was pretty sure he and Castiel would manage to put it to good use. If they decided to get back to their hunting life, that would mean not having to choose between using fake credit cards and being completely broke anymore.

Dean had no idea what they would ultimately decide to do. But the good part was that… well. They had time to think about it. They had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted to do.

Together.

 **~** ❦ **~**

“Dean, honey – we need to go!”

“Yeah, baby, just one second.”

Castiel sighed a little, following Dean’s voice upstairs and into their bedroom, rolling his eyes as he saw what Dean was doing.

“Oh, for the love of – _Dean._ We’ve been over this, that vial doesn’t need any more protection. It’s proofed against any kind of Supernatural being in the world, and hidden somewhere a human thief wouldn’t look. Now you’re just being obsessive.”

Dean pouted.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m worried. This is your _Grace_ , Cas. We have to take good care of it. I’m still not comfortable leaving it here.”

Castiel shook his head, wrapping his arms around Dean and leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “It’ll be fine. And it’s gonna be safer here, anyway. Come on, we have to go now – we’re gonna miss the plane.”

Dean just pouted more, frowning at Castiel.

“I still don’t understand why we can’t drive there.”

“Because it’s a twenty-six hours’ drive to Palo Alto, we decided we wanted to spend Christmas there with Sam’s family, and you refused to let Balthazar come here and zap you there.”

“The last time I let him do that I didn’t poop for a week!” Dean protested.

“Though luck. Plane it is, then.”

“You’re cruel. And heartless.”

Castiel just laughed, kissing Dean again.

“I love you, too.”

Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face at that.

“Mpf. Okay. Let’s go get this plane, then.”

Castiel smiled back and took Dean’s hand, leading him back downstairs, and towards the car.

Dean had to admit, he was really looking forward to this Christmas with Sammy. Charlie was gonna be there, too, and Benny, and everyone else. He wasn’t even all that annoyed that Balthazar would be there. The two of them weren’t friends, and they were most probably never really going to be, but… they had come to appreciate each other more, sort of.

All in all, these had been the craziest, most wonderful months of Dean’s entire life. Things between him and Castiel weren’t perfect, not by a long shot. Living together wasn’t all fun and games, Castiel could get a real pain in the ass, sometimes, and Dean knew he could get mortally annoying. They sometimes fought, and yelled at each other, and there had been a couple of times Dean had been seriously worried thing between them were going to end. But in the end, they loved each other. And they managed to make things work.

If one year ago someone had told him those weird-ass dreams would get him a family, Dean would’ve probably thought them crazy – and look at him now.

He had Sam and Benny back, he had Charlie, always, and he had Amelia, and Robbie, and yes, even Balthazar. And Cas. Man, he had _Cas._

And he had never been happier.


End file.
